The Inquisitor's Journey
by Knight of Wattala
Summary: He was the third son of a noble house, rebellious and hot headed. She was a Seeker, noble and dedicated. He was swept in events against his will and she choose her life and purpose. It was inevitable that these two would clash, but can Marcus Trevelyan and Cassandra Pentaghast find common ground and work together and save the world?
1. The Breach

_A/N: Hello and welcome to my new story on Dragon Age! My first story in this fandom, I hope you start this story and see it through to the end because I certainly hope to do so! This story will focus on Marcus Trevelyan and his quest to be the leader Thedas needs in its hour of crisis! Read on and enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - The Breach**

* * *

 _ **9: 41 Dragon, three weeks before the Conclave**_

"Moira, I can't have this ruffian as part of the Trevelyan delegation! He will ruin everything!"

Marcus Trevelyan snorted in derision, "Its not like I want to be on this journey, anyway," he quipped back.

"Silence,"

The feminine voice was soft, rich and when calm, was soothing to the ear, But Moira Trevelyan was anything but calm, the steely glint in her emerald, green eyes showed her fiery anger, as she glared at her younger brother. Tall, dignified and dressed in a long flowing dress of green, Moira Trevelyan was the definition of grace and strength, qualities that had seen House Trevelyan become one of Ostwick's most prominent noble houses. Moira's eyes rounded on her third son and Marcus knew that her anger was targeted at him, for hitting his brother at the Congregation, the grand meeting where the Heads of Ostwicks powerful families had gathered to discuss the matter of the Conclave and the Mage-Templar war. Marcus looked back at his mother, staying stock still, the glare in her eyes sent a clear but unspoken message, ' _Do not utter another word,'_

Marcus leaned back in the couch he was sitting on, his eyes falling on the rest of the room, they were in Moira's office, a large room with a tall ceiling that towered above their heads, splendor and opulence screamed at him in every direction. Soft lush rugs made out of dark green fur were draped across the floor, portraits depicting the head of each household, each figure painted in intricate detail by an artist from Orlais, were hung along the wall, the golden frames gleaming from the sunlight that flooded the room through the large window that touched the floor and almost reached the ceiling. At the far end of the room, directly opposite Marcus, sat a huge bookshelf made of oak wood, filled all kinds of books, large leather bound volumes about Maker knew what and in front of the bookshelf was a huge desk, large enough to allow three people to sit side by side with room to spare, the parchment, bottles of ink and quill holder organized neatly on top of it. Marcus wondered what his mother thought of whenever she worked in such splendor, did she even notice the luxury? Or was it constant reminder of her responsibilities? Moria began to speak again and Marcus found his attention wandering back to the conversation.

"Marcus is a capable fighter," she said, "His protection will be valuable should the negotiations…. not go as planned,"

"Things will not go as planned if he is there!" exclaimed Garvin Trevelyan, a pious man who was devout to the Chantry and an admirer of Divine Justinia, he had volunteered to represent House Trevelyan at the coming Conclave… along with the rest of Ostwick, his stormy grey eyes were wide in disbelief, as he pleaded with his older sister to reverse her decision. Marcus was content to let the man grovel, although they both knew it was pointless, for Moira always had her way, no matter what.

"For Maker's sake, Moira, the boy attacked his own brother in the middle of a meeting with the other nobles! Would have chopped off the poor man's arm, had it not been for your daughter. You can't honestly expect me to trust-"

"Enough Garvin," cut off Moira, her tone brokering no argument. "Marcus may have caused trouble in the past but he will be on his best behavior at Haven,"

Marcus, who had been lounging in a large chair, suddenly sat up straight as his mother turned to look at him.

"What makes you think this… hooligan will be on his best behavior?"he demanded. "This boy has spent too much time rutting with-"

"If you continue you that sentence Garvin, I will make what Marcus did to his brother look like child's play,"

The cold statement shut the middle aged man and Marcus couldn't help but smile. ' _Ha!'_ Garvin's grey, beady eyes glared at him in dislike, Marcus glowered back at him, though he restrained himself… barely. Garvin had never been fond of his second nephew and the feeling was mutual.

"Garvin, you are to form your delegation as planned," Moira continued, as if she not just threatened to disembowel her brother, a few moments ago. "But your delegation will include Marcus for security and protection, he will do his duty and keep all of you safe,"

Marcus took a deep breath, trying to keep calm, the anger that was raging inside him, he had already lost his temper once and it landed him in this situation, he was not going to lose it again.

"Moira, what makes you think he will stay in line?" Garvin pleaded.

"Because if Marcus fails in his duties and fails to keep the delegation from House Trevelyan safe," said Moira, turning to look at her son, with a cold glare. "He will be branded a traitor of Ostwick and punished with execution."

* * *

 ** _The Conclave_**

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you, now?"

The voice was soft, dangerous and dripping with malice. Marcus was strongly reminded of her mother and her threat of execution, and his dislike for the woman in armor grew. The fact that he woke up in a dungeon, locked in chains, with swords pointing at him like a prisoner, despite committing no crime did nothing to improve his temper.

"The Conclave is destroyed, along with everyone who attended…except for you,"

Marcus had grown up in nobility and understood an accusation when he heard it, an accusation that made him furious.

"And you think I did it!" Marcus snapped angrily, shaking the chains that bound him, he barely noticed the guards shifting uneasily. "If I had things my way I wouldn't _be_ at the bloody Conclave," Marcus shouted. "I don't know what happened there, but I did not do it!"

The woman in armor grabbed his hand and shoved it in his face.

"Explain this!" she hissed.

Green sparks spat out of his hand, it felt like someone was stabbing him in the arm repeatedly but he was too angry to care about the pain.

"I can't remember anything, you crazy bitch!"

"You are lying!"

Marcus felt something hard hit him across his mouth and pain exploded from his jaw. The woman had struck him, with an armored glove. That only enraged him more.

"Let me go!" he demanded, glaring back at the woman and ignoring the pain radiating from his jaw. "I have done nothing wrong!"

"You are not telling us everything!" she replied,

"The hell I am!" Marcus roared, "If I could blow up the Conclave, then I would have broken out of these bloody chains by now!"

The woman in black armor drew her fist back to hit him, but another woman in blue and purple robes intercepted her. "

We need him, Cassandra,"

Marcus narrowed his eyes, need him for what? The hooded woman turned to look at him, pinning him with her cerulean, blue eyes.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"No I don't!" Marcus snapped, "And even if I did what does it matter? You have already decided my guilt!"

"That is not-"

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana," spoke the woman in black armor.

Marcus glared at the woman who struck him, her black hair was cropped short and her voice was thick with a foreign accent that Marcus couldn't place, he  
glared at her with intense dislike written all over his face.

"I will take him there,"

Marcus watched in stony silence, as the red haired lady disappeared up the stairs and the dark haired woman knelt and removed the handcuffs. The nobleman noticed that she wore black armor with a white eye on the chest plate, there was something ominous about that symbol that him uncomfortable.

Marcus growled, "I suppose by forward camp, you mean the executioner's noose?"

The woman glared at him, hazel brown eyes flashing with dislike.

"Do not tempt me,"

* * *

 _Ten year old Marcus Trevelyan struggled to hold up his small, wooden shield as he performed the moves that his father showed him. His arms were aching from holding that shield for hours on end and his throat was parched from thirst, all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and read the latest story from his favorite author, Arianna Magnus._

 _"Focus Marcus!" roared Morgan, as if sensing his son's distraction._

 _Marcus shook his head and held up his sword to shoulder level and waited, his sparring partner was a boy around his own age, with ginger hair and blue eyes that gleamed with mischief, Harriet was the quartermaster's son, and had been conscripted into training with Marcus. Though they were the same age, Harriet was taller and seemingly stronger, something that Marcus always resented. Marcus took a deep breath and ran directly at taller boy, but Marcus was too slow. Harriet sidestepped and clonked him on the head. Marcus staggered and fell forward onto his knees, feeling tears of frustration and humiliation welling in his eyes._

 _'I can't do this, I am not cut out for this!'_

 _Marcus felt a shadow fall over him and he looked up, his father was looking down on him, his dark brown eyes staring at him in a critical fashion. Marcus looked down at the ground, unable to meet his father's gaze._

 _"We are done for the day, Harriet,"_

 _"Father, I…"_

 _"I don't understand what's wrong with you Marcus," Morgan snapped, "Your sister could defeat boys twice her size when she was your age, you on the other hand can barely hold your shield up,"_

 _Marcus closed his eyes and clenched his fists, the disappointed tone in his father's voice doing more to cut him, then his harsh words._

 _"I don't know where we want wrong with you," he said, turning and walking away, leaving the young boy weeping on the ground._

* * *

Marcus was unchained, with two daggers in each hand and a lot of pent up rage to unleash, his time in captivity had made him furious with the Seeker, and Inquisition. He barely noticed the demons with their distorted, grotesque bodies. Marcus would have been scared, had he not been so angry, he did not believe what she had said about him being the only survivor of the explosion, the Conclave hosted some of the best mages and Templars in Southern Thedas, people who possessed the skill to do something to prevent their untimely deaths. Marcus had no reason to believe this agent of the Inquisition, let alone trust her, but right now what mattered was closing the Breach and making sure that the demons stopped raining from the skies. Marcus ran up the steps, the large, sickly green Breach on the periphery of his sight, he could feel a connection to the large hole in the sky, every time it grew, he could feel his hand throb with pain.

"We will be there soon, you can hear the fighting!"

Marcus could indeed hear the sounds of battle, men crying out and demons roaring with their unholy cries.

"Whose fighting!" he demanded, he thought that the bulk of the Seeker's men were back at Haven.

"You'll see soon enough,"

"I am just dying in suspense!" he barked back, as he vaulted the final few steps, the ground was slippery beneath his feet, but Marcus was quick, agile and experienced when it came to traversing on such territory.

"Keep talking and a demon might just do that to you,"

The two of them made their way up their stairs, as Marcus rounded a corner, he stopped and stared. Cold wind whipped at his black hair, flecks of white snow caressed his face with a freezing touch, as he surveyed the scene before him, a battle was indeed taking place, right in front of something that was glowing green, strongly resembling the Breach. A handful of the Seeker's men were struggling to hold their own against a pack of demons. Marcus didn't hesitate, he leapt down from his higher position and charged forward.

A large explosion ricocheted through the air, as Marcus instinctively pulled his hand back and away from the small Breach… only to find it no longer there. He stared in wonder, forgetting about his anger. For a moment, everyone present was silent, only the wind howled in their ears, as they absorbed what had happened. Marcus stared at his hand, then back at the sky, where only moments ago they had been a hole that was spitting out demons. Marcus turned to the bald elf, who stood of to aside with a benign expression on his face.

"How did you do that?" he asked, in confusion and wonder.

"I did nothing," spoke the elf, "The credit is all yours,"

"I.."

Marcus glanced up at the sky, he could hear men whispering in the background, they were recovering from the shock of what they had just seen.

"This thing on my hand?" he said, "Is it because of the Breach?"

The elf smiled and nodded, "It would seem so, I theorized that whatever magic opened the Breach also left that mark on your hand, and it could be used to close the fade rifts… and it seems I was correct,"

"Meaning that it could work on the Breach, as well," Cassandra added.

Marcus nodded, feeling slightly relieved, he had no idea what was going to happen to him, and he hated that thought, but atleast they were no longer running about blind intuition, or at least the Seeker's intuition.

"So I can help," he said, more to himself than to the others.

"It seems that you hold the key to our salvation,"

"Good to know, and I hear I thought we would be ass deep in demons forever,"

Marcus picked up the distinct accent of a dwarf and turned around, to see a middle aged dwarf looking up at him with a suave grin, he wore a dark brown coat that little to cover his voluminous chest hair and he carried a large and impressive looking crossbow, which he now slung over his back.

"Varric Tethras, at your service, rogue, storyteller and occasionally unwanted tag along,"

Despite the gravity of his situation, Marcus smiled at the dwarf's introduction.

"Believe me, I know the feeling," he said, giving Cassandra a mistrustful look, the Seeker glared back at him.

"By the way, that's a nice crossbow, you have there,"

Varric and smiled, stroking the crossbow with relish.

"Bianca and I, we've been through a lot together,"

"Bianca?" Marcus said,

"A beautiful name for a beautiful machine"

"I am Solas, if there are any introductions to be made," spoke the bald elf, "I am pleased to see you still live,"

Marcus chuckled, as he turned to look at Solas.

"You might be the first person to have said that to me…ever,"

"What he really means is," said Varric, "I prevented that mark from killing you while you slept,"

Marcus turned back to the elf with renewed interest, "I didn't know that," he said, "Thanks for that,"

"You can thank me after you have closed the Breach," Solas replied, he then turned to Cassandra,

"You should know that the magic we see here is unlike anything I have seen before. Your prisoner is no mage but I find it difficult to believe that any mage is capable of such power,"

"Understood,"

Marcus snorted, "I doubt that,"

"Shut up and walk,"

* * *

 _"What are we to do? How on earth can we make a decent Templar out of this boy!"_

 _Fourteen year old Marcus Trevelyan hung his head, unable to meet the disappointing looks of his father, or the angry gaze of his Knight Commander. Marcus closed his eyes as tears stung his eyes, he had failed his family once again. Despite his best efforts, Marcus wasn't good enough to bring pride and honor to the noble line of House Trevelyan, he could already hear his older brother taunting him._

 _'Marcus, once again a failure, reminding us all why no one wants him!'_

 _He tried hard, he did his best to by heart all the canticles, he trained until his bones broke, he was always on his best behavior, but it still wasn't enough!_

 _"What has he done now Knight Commander?" came his father's voice._

 _Marcus couldn't help but wince at the tone, he was only glad that his mother wasn't here to face the shame._

 _"He has been too kind to apprentices here," said Knight Commander, in an affronted tone, "Sneaking them all sorts of merchandise for them, items they should not be having with them,"_

 _Marcus felt his father's withering glare on him and he recoiled even further in shame._

 _'I was only trying to help them,' he protested, feebly._

 _"Why did you do this Marcus?" his father asked, the simple question seemed to unlock something in Marcus, he found it hard to speak as tears began to swell past his eyelids._

 _"It doesn't matter why he did this!" snapped the Knight Commander, "He broke a serious law! If his sir name had been anything else but Trevelyan, I would have sent him home with a severe beating!"_

 _"What do you propose then, Knight Commander?"_

 _"The boy is weak," spoke the Knight Commander, viciously, "But not beyond training, he needs to be in a different environment, away from home, away from Ostwick for the duration of his training,"_

 _"Are you suggesting…"_

 _"Yes, I am," said the Knight Commander, Marcus looked up, wiping tears as he did so._

 _"You must send your son to Kirkwall, there they will teach him to be strict with mages, there they will teach him to be a true Templar,"_

 _His father did not even hesitate, he nodded. "It shall be done,"_

 _Marcus gave both men a blank look, he was leaving home?_

 _"I have never left home before,"_

 _"Do not look on this journey with trepidation boy," said the Knight Commander, turning cold brown eyes in his direction. "Kirkwall will make you a great Templar and a fine member of your family,"_

 _'Fine member of his family,'_

 _That was all Marcus ever wanted to be…. make his family proud, the fourteen-year-old boy held his head up straighter._

 _"Father, I will go to Kirkwall!" he declared, "I want to make House Trevelyan proud!"_

 _His father did not react, there was no proud smile to encourage him, no sad look to tell him that he would miss his son._

 _The senior Trevelyan only nodded, "Then pack your things, it is time to leave."_

* * *

"Hurry use the mark before more come through!"

Marcus held up his hand, the green mark pulsed with life, releasing tendrils of energy and causing pain to erupt through his arm, as he reached out towards the fade rift. It was almost like a tapestry, Marcus thought, find the right thread and the whole thing unraveled, and when the whole thing unraveled…. Marcus sensed that he found the right thread; he grasped it tightly with his hand and pulled with all his might. The fade rift disappeared with a loud noise, leaving behind only clear air.

Marcus took a deep breath and looked around, feeling slightly dazed. Barely moments ago, there had been an unholy green portal to the fade that was pouring out demons, now it was eerily quiet.

"We are clear for the moment, well done,"

"Whatever that thing on your hand is, its useful,"

Marcus was breathing hard but he looked up at Solas and Varric with a large grin on his face.

"Who knew I had such a talent for wielding strange, fade controlling magic that could end up killing me?"

"The world works in unpredictable ways, young human," replied the elf.

Marcus snorted, "You don't say,"

"Open the gates, the Rift has been closed!"

Cassandra's voice rung with conviction and authority, her voice cut through the silent air, as her voice echoed across the area.

"Right away, Lady Cassandra,"

Marcus snorted in derision, " _Lady_?" he muttered, "Seriously?"

"You and me, both," muttered Varric.

The thick, iron gates to the forward camp swing open, revealing the Inquisition's forward camp. There were only handful soldiers manning the area, and it was slightly disorganized, papers were strewn across the ground and table, scattered by the wind and supplies were strewn across the camp. A familiar figure in purple robes stood at the far end of table, standing next to another figure dressed in robes. Marcus could distinctly make out the red and white robes of the Chantry, he glanced down at his hand, feeling a little nervous. He had a feeling that the Chantry would not react to his presence here well, especially if he was believed to be responsible for what had happened.

Cassandra led the way towards the purple robed figure with Marcus, Solas and Varric following her lead, as Marcus drew closer, he could hear two distinct voices, one male and another female, growing in volume with each step.

"You have caused enough trouble already!"

" _I_ have caused trouble?"

"You! Cassandra! The Most Holy!"

The little group made their way towards the table, the robed figure looked up, Marcus immediately recognized the pale face and bright blue eyes of one of his interrogators, though she looked a lot less scary now, than in the dungeon. The one dressed in Chantry robes was a middle aged man, Marcus guessed he was in his forties due to graying mustache and slightly wrinkled face. He looked up as the group approached, his beady brown eyes were fixed on Cassandra.

"Seeker I order you to put this man in chains, at once!"

Marcus frowned at the Chantry figure, than looked up at the Breach, it was now larger than a few hours ago when he first saw it, did this fool not realize what was at stake?

"Order me?" Cassandra, said in an indignant voice, "Chancellor you are a clerk, a glorified bureaucrat! You have no authority over me!"

"And you are thug! But a thug who _supposedly_ served the Chantry,"

Marcus looked at the angry Chancellor then at the even angrier looking Seeker, both of them were glaring daggers at each other, oblivious to everything else in the world around them, including the Breach.

' _Are we seriously having this conversation right now?'_

Marcus decided to intervene,

"Ahem!"

Cassandra and the Chancellor broke their stares and turned to him. Marcus got the distinct impression of being pinned to the ground, no doubt Cassandra was trying to glare a hole through his head.

"Look, I hate to interrupt what is _obviously_ a touching reunion," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"But I think we have to focus on something that is _slightly_ more important than your conversation about Chantry hierarchy, like say… that giant hole in the sky spitting out demons!"

"Shut up!" snapped the Chancellor, "You should not even be here!"

"Friend, you are not the only one wishing that," quipped Marcus, "So how about we first focus on closing the Breach, so that I can go back to where I came from and you can start working on getting that stick out of your ass?"

Behind Marcus, Varric laughed, "Nice," even Solas had a small smile on his face.

The Chancellor was momentarily stunned, his mouth hung open, before he snapped to attention and turned back to Cassandra,

"Call a retreat, Seeker," he said, "Our position here is lost,"

His tone had decidedly soften, he was no longer looking to command, but to entreat the Seeker into obeying. Cassandra, however, was having none of it.

"We can still win the day!"

"How? Even with your soldiers, you won't be able to reach the temple!"

"Yes," added Marcus, "Because you are the military expert here, correct?"

The Chancellor opened his mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Cassandra.

"We must get to the temple it is the quickest route!"

"But not the safest," said the robed figure, speaking for the first time since they arrived.

"Our forces can act as a distraction," she said, pointing to the mountains in the background, "While you go through the mountains,"

Marcus looked up at the mountains in the distance, he could make out a series of small ladders, in the distance.

"We lost an entire company up there, its too risky!" said Cassandra.

Marcus sighed, rubbing his temple with his forefinger in exasperation, ' _Is this really the time for a debate?'_

As if sensing his mood, Cassandra turned to him,

"How do you think we should proceed?"

Marcus was stunned, he stared at Cassandra with wide, green eyes, she returned his surprised look with a steady gaze, expecting him to make the decision. Marcus glanced at the woman in robes and the Chancellor, both of them were looking at him expectedly.

"So… you are asking for my opinion?"

"You are the one with the mark," pointed out Solas,

"And you are the one we must protect, since we cannot decide on our own…" said Cassandra.

Marcus nodded, "We will take the mountain paths," he said, "We need to work together if we are going to get through this,"

Marcus noticed a frown on Cassandra's face, perhaps she didn't approve of his choice? Marcus shrugged, it did not matter, what she thought, he may not even be alive, even if he succeeded in closing the Breach.

* * *

 _For as long as he had lived, Marcus had wanted to make his family proud, to finally get the attention he secretly craved from his mother, to earn his father's approval and to earn his sibling's respect. But the City of Chains would change all of that. Marcus had come to Kirkwall's Circle at a difficult time, tensions between the mages and the templars grew with each passing day, as Knight Commander Meredith came down hard on the circle for the slightest transgressions. At first, Marcus did not notice the growing tensions, between mage and templar, as a squire and student, he had little to no interaction with the mages and he was barred from entering certain parts of the Circle, until his training was young Trevelyan committed himself to his studies, determined to become the best Templar he could be, he studied the Canticles of the Chantry past midnight and working hard on his fighting skills. It was in Kirkwall did Marcus discover his talent with daggers, small, but lethal weapons that could shred a man to pieces, if one knew how to use it properly. Unlike, Ostwick's Circle, daggers were common weapons amongst the Templars of Kirkwall because the smaller weapons were more suited to the narrow streets of the city. Marcus was agile and had a keen mind, making him one of the best students amongst his age group, the young boy did not have many friends amongst the apprentices, his Ostwick origins drove away many of the students who were native to Kirkwall. It was this distrust that prompted his fellow students to test him._

 _"Trevelyan?"_

 _Sixteen year old Marcus Trevelyan looked up from the roll of parchment he was reading, a young man with blonde hair and blue eyes approached him, with a small smile on his face. Marcus smiled back in polite greeting._

 _"Greetings, Clyde," Marcus spoke, "Is there something you need?"_

 _"Naturally, otherwise I wouldn't be disturbing the teacher's favourite student!"_

 _Marcus nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable, about the choice of words, their trainers ranging from Chantry clerics to Templar trainers had come to see Marcus as a model student, the type other recruits should aspire to be, causing him to be the butt of many jokes, amongst his fellow students. Marcus gave little thought to what they said about him, everything he was doing was to make his family proud. Marcus smiled faintly as he recalled the most recent letter he received from his parents, it was written by his mother, telling him that they were receiving fantastic reports about his studies and encouraging him to keep up the good work, it was brief letter but still very important, as far he was concerned, letters from home were very rare and were always, appreciated when they came._

 _"Trevelyan, I need you to come with me,"_

 _Marcus nodded a little apprehensively, "Of course, but why? Do you need a sparring partner?"_

 _Clyde shook his head, his lips hinting at a smirk. "No, we are being allowed into the Gallows today,"_

 _Marcus immediately stood up from his bench, all thoughts of the scroll (and his mother's letter) forgotten,_

 _"Really?"_

 _"Yes, and I need you to come with me, immediately," Clyde, with a sneer, "Ser Alrik would like to give you a test,"_

 _Marcus' eyes lit up at the prospect, Ser Alrik was one of the finest knights in the Templar Order, Knight Commander Meredith praised him for his unparalleled virtue, gentlemanly qualities and unquestioned commitment to the order, passing a test from him would surely alleviate Marcus to even higher standards. The young noblemen nodded, an eager smile lighting up his youthful features._

 _"Then take me to him," Clyde leered at him, "This way, Trevelyan,"_


	2. A Reluctant Alliance

_**Chapter 2 - A Reluctant Alliance**_

Marcus came too slowly, he opened his eyes and stared blankly up at the wooden ceiling, wondering how he got there. He still felt weary and tired, even though he had just woken up from a long rest. Marcus raised a hand to his head, resting the palm of his hand on his forehead, as he tried to recall what had happened that him. The last thing he remembered was standing before the Breach, trying to close it with everything he had. Marcus could recall the haunting green light of the Breach, the terrified voice of the Divine as she called out to him and the fierce battle with the Pride Demon. The events came crashing down on him and he groaned at the memories.

The sound of a door opening and closing made Marcus sit up on his bed. A young elf with short, black hair was standing at the doorway, Marcus stared at her in surprise, did he need medical attention? The young elf's eyes went wide at the sight of him.

"You are awake!" she exclaimed, in a rather high-pitched squeal.

Marcus was confused, the elf sounded both scared and terrified. Before Marcus could say anything, the servant dropped the basket she was holding and fell prostrate on her knees, with a terrified squeak.

"Oh come now, surely I am not _that_ ugly, am I?"

Marcus said with a big grin. Far from reassuring the girl, it seemed to terrify her.

"N-n-no my lord, nothing about ugliness, my lord," she squeaked, "Lady Cassandra said she wanted to speak with you, right away!"

The elven servant said, her eyes and words directed at the floor. "At once, she said, at once!"

Marcus opened his mouth to ask her another question, but the elf got to her feet and bolted out the door before he could even utter a word. Marcus could only stare at the empty spot, where the servant had been only moments ago.

' _That woman was scared,'_ he thought, ' _Perhaps word about my Mark has spread?'_

Marcus could only imagine the sort of wild stories that were spreading around the village of Haven, he just hoped they were good ones.

Then suddenly it hit Marcus and a heavy feeling fell upon his chest as his mind began to grasp what had taken place in the past few hours.

' _How was all this happening?'_

One day he was the unwanted son of the prominent House Trevelyan, no different than all the other arrogant noble men, now what was he? Marcus glanced at his hand again, there was no glowing green energy spitting out of his hand, no pain shooting up his left arm and coursing through his entire body. Marcus groaned, leaned forward and placed his face in the palm of his hands. What was going to happen now? How did he fit into all this? Was he still a prisoner? Marcus felt his heartbeat increase at the thought, if he was a prisoner of the Chantry, then no one was going to save him. Marcus doubted anyone in his family would challenge the Chantry, his mother had always said that the interests of the family came first, no matter what, and the interests of the family were always tied with that of the Chantry's. Marcus had no doubt in his mind that Moira would feel contesting the Chantry's authority was not in the best interests of House Trevelyan, especially when the family spent centuries cultivating positive relations with the religious institution. Strangely enough, Marcus felt nothing about this thought, he had long ago accepted that his family had never wanted him, his own mother had threatened him with treason, should anything happen to her brother and his delegation. If word reached Ostwick of what had happened, Moira would probably send a small army to hunt him down and kill him. Marcus slowly got to his feet.

' _Lady Pentaghast wanted to speak with me,'_ Marcus snorted, ' _No one could call that man-woman a lady,'_

Still he needed to know what their next move was and how he factored into it. Marcus looked around and studied his surroundings for the first time since he woke up. He was in what looked to be in a wooden cabin, small, comfortable but with very little furniture, besides his bed and a few books scattered across the floor, Marcus saw a table with his armor placed atop the wooden surface.

Marcus made his way over to the desk and began to unravel his simple armor, black and blue leather without any embroidery or even a symbol of House Trevelyan's coat of arms. Garvin had ordered that he wear this armor to the Conclave, he claimed that he did not want to much attention to them, but the young nobleman suspected that his uncle was only trying to insult him. Marcus closed his eyes, took a deep breath and shook his head, he did not want to think about his uncle right now. Uncle Garvin was an arrogant prick who despised him, but he was still family and he did not want to dwell on his lose; too much was going on right now. As Marcus strapped on his armor, he thought about Cassandra and Sister Leliana, he was certain that they were the ones in charge. Marcus slipped on his shirt and tied the straps at the base of his neck.

"I don't care what they say," he muttered to himself resolutely, "I don't care what happens, everything I do, I do on my terms,"

After what happened at Kirkwall, Marcus vowed never to let anyone dictate terms to him.

* * *

Cassandra was irate, it was all she could do not to scream in frustration as Chancellor Roderick tried to make his case.

"The man failed Seeker, for all you know, he intended it that way!"

"I do not believe that!" Cassandra snapped, "I heard the Most Holy's voice in the Temple, she called out to him for help!"

"How do you know this isn't some sort of plan of his?" snapped the Chancellor,=.

Cassandra exhaled trying very hard not to bash the Chancellor's head, the Seeker glanced at Leliana with an annoyed glare, she was far more adapt at getting annoying people to shut up, why wasn't she saying anything? The former bard merely glanced back at her, her cool blue eyes conveying nothing. For a moment, despite her own anger, Cassandra felt a twinge of sympathy for her comrade. Leliana had just lost a friend, a savior and a role model in one horrifying moment, she could only imagine how the Left Hand felt upon hearing Most Holy's voice again.

The door opened with a loud noise, and the Seeker jumped in surprise and alarm. Acting on instinct, Cassandra moved to unsheathe her sword but stopped when she saw who it was. A man of medium of height and chocolate brown skin dressed in black and blue leather armor barged into the office, he turned towards the Chancellor and fixed a cold stare on him.

"Good evening Chancellor!" he declared, his green eyes seemed to light up at the sight of the man. "I heard you on the other side of this rather thick door," Marcus said, knocking on the door with his knuckles to emphasize his point. "And according to you, I _singlehandedly_ started an explosion that leveled a mountaintop, without any magic… even though its literally impossible,"

"I-"

"And then according to _you,_ I allowed myself to get captured only to…. What, exactly? Meet my one true love? Undo something that probably took a lot of effort?"

"I.."

"Then according to you, I sought to close the Breach, but in your version of the story, I caused the Breach in the first place… and that makes no sense at all,"

"You-you failed on purpose!"

"Chancellor, do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound, right now?"

Cassandra watched with slight amusement, as the Chancellor deflated from righteous and pompous to uncertain and afraid.

"I..I, chain him! I want him brought to the capital in chains!"

Cassandra decided to intervene, "Disregard that, leave us,"

The Templars nodded and took their turn to leave, the young man glanced at the departing Templars before turning to face her, with surprise written all over his face. Cassandra glared back at him,

' _Be silent, you fool!'_

Meanwhile, Chancellor Roderick was fuming, "How dare you! He should be taken to the capital in chains!"

"Chains isn't really my thing," spoke the young man, "I am more of hands free person,"

Cassandra nearly balked at the man's implication, but choose to ignore him.

"I do not believe that the prisoner is guilty," Cassandra said,

"So the explosion," said the Chancellor, in an incredulous voice, "The mark on his hand, his survival, all a coincidence?"

"Providence," said Cassandra, glaring at the man who at least had the decency to keep silent. "The Maker sent him to us in our darkest hour,"

The young man arched his eyebrows at her, but chose to say nothing, something that Cassandra was grateful for, she didn't know why but something about his demeanor struck her the wrong way. The Seeker shook her head and turned away from the conversation, Leliana had now taken over where she had left off.

"Someone was there at the Conclave," spoke Leliana, "Someone most holy did not expect, they maybe dead or have allies who yet live,"

Having made the Chancellor's accusations look ridiculous, Marcus was now content to stay back and let the scene unfold, there were a thousand things he wanted to say but he felt that the Chancellor would use any statement he made against him. So Marcus stood there with his hands folded, as he watched Leliana and Cassandra shred the man's authority and certainty, with each word. Marcus watched as the Seeker came forward with a large book in a hard but worn brown cover, there was a large emblem on the book's cover, a silver eye. The emblem looked vaguely familiar to Marcus but he was not sure where he last saw it.

"You know what this is, Chancellor?" Cassandra demanded, "A writ from the Divine granting us the authority to act,"

Cassandra began to make her way towards the Chancellor, she resembled a lion stalking her prey, an image strengthened by the Chancellor's reaction who started backing away in fear. Marcus sniggered at his discomfort.

"We will close the Breach, find those responsible and restore order with or without your approval!"

A small part of Marcus was very impressed, that part of him couldn't help but be drawn to the strength and conviction she displayed at this moment. But another part of him felt was very uncomfortable, what was going to happen to him? How did he factor into all of this?

' _They are going to use you,'_ A small voice said in his head, ' _First, they were going to execute you, now they are going to put you up as the face of this Inquisition,'_

Marcus silently shook his head, he did not want this, he did not want to conscripted into some holy army.

' _But there is the Breach in the sky, you saw it, Are you willing to just walk away?'_

Marcus was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not notice the Chancellor passing him until the man brushed past him. The Chantry brother bumped him hard in the shoulder before leaving through the entrance. Marcus turned towards the door as it swung shut, with a scowl on his face.

' _Who does that fool think he is?'_

Behind him, Leliana began to speak and he turned to face them.

"This is the Divine's directive rebuild the Inquisition of old, find those who would stand against the chaos,"

Marcus couldn't help but snort at that, "The Inquisition?" he asked, "As in the organization before the Chantry?"

He had read about the group of warriors during his time in Kirkwall, he could not remember much but he had heard that they were fanatics who were merciless in their hunt for malficarum and abominations.

"How are you going to build an army of holy warriors without the support of the Chantry?"

Leliana opened her mouth to speak but Cassandra cut her off, "We won't," she said, sounding determined and firm, "We have no choice but to do it ourselves,"

Marcus nodded, "Okay," he said, "Crazy, but not like you have much choice right?"

' _How much choice do you have?'_

Marcus shook the thought aside.

"Cassandra is right," Leliana said, "We must seal the Breach, with you at our side,"

Marcus could only stare at the woman stunned, he knew that this might happen, but actually hearing it was something else altogether. Leliana took advantage of his silence and pressed on.

"You are the only one with any power over the rifts," she explained. "You-"

"Yes, I have noticed that," Marcus quipped, the surprise had faded away and now anger was starting to burn slowly within him. "I also noticed that it is the only reason I am not in chains or put on a chopping block!"

"Listen-"

"No!" Marcus snapped, he pointed a gloved finger at Leliana, not caring that she was the Sinister Left Hand of The Divine, or a Hero of the Fifth Blight.

"Let us get one thing straight here," he said, "I do not want to be a part of your holy war!"

"We are already at war!" Cassandra said, she sounded harsh and angry, a scowl marred her features, as she advanced on Marcus. "And you are already a part of it,"

The noblemen's instincts screamed at him to back down, but he was too angry to care. Who were these people that they would dictate terms to him?

"I decide what I am apart of!" he snapped, "And I do not want anything to do with the Inquisition!"

"You may go if you wish,"

The words seemed to have frozen time, Cassandra was almost nose to nose with Marcus before the words sunk in.

"Wait, what?"

"You can go if you wish,"

Leliana repeated, her pale face remained impassive, her blue eyes gave nothing away.

"I can?" said Marcus, sounding confused, "He can!"

"Yes you can," Leliana said, "You can leave right now if you wish, and no one will stop you. After all, one cannot fight a war if one is not willing."

Marcus nodded, though a voice in his mind nagged at him, this might be a game of some sort and that made him uncertain, of what to do.

"Right," he said, "Thank you for seeing reason, I will go now,"

Marcus turned to leave, eager to be away but Leliana's next words made him freeze in place.

"You should know that while some think you are a hero, others still hold you responsible for what happened,"

Marcus could feel his temper flaring again, but he took a deep breath and reigned it in.

"We cannot protect you unless you are with us," said Cassandra, "If you leave Haven, you are on your own,"

Marcus took a deep breath and turned around, both the Right and Left Hand of the Divine stood there, with neutral expressions on their faces. They said nothing but Marcus knew that they had cornered him.

"You make it sound like I do not have a choice," he growled.

"You cannot deny this has changed you," Cassandra said,

"The Chantry will look to elect a new Divine," Leliana said, "And will wait for her directive, that will take weeks, months even, and we cannot afford to wait that long,"

Cassandra took a step forward, she was no longer blazing with anger, like before, but she still maintained a serious look.

"Help us stop this madness before it is too late," she said, holding out a hand to him.

Marcus took a deep breath, he felt trapped, shoved into a corner with no real choice and he hated it. So he folded his hands and simply glared at Cassandra, who understood the unspoken message and withdrew her hand, with a scowl on her face.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading you guys and thank you for the review spectre4hire._


	3. The Hinterlands

_A/N: Here's the third chapter: Read, enjoy and review!_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3 - The Hinterlands_**

It had been a tense ride from Haven to the wilderness outside Redcliffe, for not only was the group hampered by bandits along the way, there was a tense and uneasy air between Cassandra and Marcus.

The Seeker was annoyed with the nobleman's display at Haven's Chantry and Marcus did not trust the woman. In fact, Marcus did not trust any members on the Inquisition's War Council, the fact that they took full advantage of the title bestowed on him and were using him as a puppet proved that they were not trustworthy people. Josephine had been polite enough, but that was no indicator as to her true nature or personality and Commander Cullen…. seeing his old Knight Captain from Kirkwall brought unpleasant memories for Marcus, who had been trying hard to forget what he had done in the City of Chains. Marcus knew that he had not made a good impression on the War Council, but he couldn't care less, about what they thought. He especially did not care about the Seeker's opinion, he saw her as nothing more than a brash idiot, who had roped her into a situation that he did not want to be in, out of all the members in the Inquisition's war council, Marcus saw her as the least trustworthy because he had seen how her allegiances can change, one day she served the Chantry, the next she stood against it, one moment she wanted to kill him, now she was expecting him to just forget the entire incident. So Marcus paid no heed to the Seeker's disdain towards him and acted as if nothing was wrong. The Herald took a liking to Varric, however because of his panache for telling stories encouraged the dwarf to regale him with his tales, the dwarf was only too happy to oblige especially if it meant alleviating the tension within the group.

"And then Hawke turns on Isabela and say "Remember the time you ran off with the Tome of Kosulun? This is the same but much funnier,"

Marcus laughed, "So what happened after that, Varric?" he asked.

"Well, you see, that's where it gets interesting…."

"I think," Cassandra snapped, silencing the dwarf. "It would be best if we focus on the task at hand,"

Marcus scowled at her, "Aren't you supposed to be the leader?" he demanded, "Tell us where we should go?"

The smell of pine and fresh grass mingled with the scents of smoke was the first sign that they were in the Hinterlands. Marcus, accompanied by Cassandra, Solas and Varric had come to the area, with the intention of speaking to Mother Giselle, possibly their only contact with the Chantry who was willing to speak to him. Marcus wasn't so sure if it was a good idea, he thought it extremely odd that a Chantry mother was willing to speak to him, at a time when the Chantry itself had denounced him. Leliana had insisted that that wasn't the case, but Marcus did not trust Leliana's opinion on the matter, for this was a woman who had given him little to no choice when it came to partaking in the Inquisition, how could he trust someone who enforced their will upon others like a tyrant?

"Where must we go, Seeker?" Solas' voice broke through the haze of his thoughts.

"There is camp overlooking the Crossroads," Cassandra said, still glaring at the man, "Scout Harding is in the camp, we can get a status report of the Hinterlands from her,"

With one last angry glance at Marcus, Cassandra turned around and lead the way.

"If I didn't know better kid, I'd say she was mad at you," Varric said to Marcus.

"Believe me, the feeling is more than mutual,"

It did not take them long to find the camp, it was a small but busy area, with a units of soldiers standing in formation their armor gleaming in the sunlight. There were large tables piled with a variety of potions, poison and other concoctions. Marcus could see the Inquisition's scouts gathered around one table and comparing notes, a small part of him was curious to see what they had found, but Cassandra walked right passed them to a dwarven women, she was quite small, even by dwarf standards with chestnut brown hair tied up in a bun, she had a healthy pink complexion and large oval eyes that lit up at the sight of Cassandra.

"My Lady," she said, sounding surprised, "It is a pleasure,"

"Scout Harding, what is the situation here?"

Harding's eyes searched the little group before her eyes fell on Marcus, she stared at him for a moment before answering the question.

"Corporal Vale and his men are doing what they can to hold off the mages and templars in the Crossroads, but there is only so much they can do,"

"And of Master Dennet?"

"We haven't been able to reach him in all this mess," she said, "He could be dead for all we know,"

Marcus suddenly felt very annoyed, "So you are saying not only do we have to fight of the crazy mages and templars for you, but we have to do what was supposed to be _your_ job?"

Harding looked uncertain, her eyes flitted between Cassandra and Marcus, who glared back at her with hard, green eyes.

"I-I am sorry, Herald," she stuttered, "I thought that-"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," Marcus snapped, angrily. "You had one job, _Scout Harding,_ and you couldn't do it,"

Muttering angrily to himself, Marcus shoved Cassandra aside and began making his way down the path that led from the camp. The Herald could hear Cassandra saying something to Harding, but he barely registered the words as he continued to march.

"That was a bit harsh, was it not Herald?"

Marcus turned around in surprise, Solas was looking at him with a neutral expression on his face, it surprised Marcus how calm the elf always seemed.

"What was harsh?" he asked, though he knew what Solas was getting at.

"The way you spoke to Scout Harding," he said, "It seemed unnecessary, she tried her best, given the circumstances,"

"Hopefully, she will try better next time," Marcus said, dismissively. "Its bad enough that I am caught up in this crap, now have I to do everyone's job for them,"

"Its not just 'crap' though, is it Herald?" Solas said, "You were able to stabilize the Breach and that makes you a hero, lot of people will look to you for inspiration, what you say and do is going to effect the morale and conduct of thousands of people, including Scout Harding,"

"Stop!" Marcus snapped, rounding on the elf, who suddenly backed away. "I am _not_ a hero, I never was! I simply did what needed to be done, that was it. No one would have done any less in my stead!"

"We cannot be sure of that," Solas said, he seemed unfazed by Marcus' outburst. "All we know for certain, is that we are at war, and you are a hero and a key figure in it,"

Solas cocked his head to one side, as he studied Marcus closely, "Every war has its heroes," he said "I am just curious what kind you'll be,"

"Didn't you hear what I just said!" Marcus snapped, angrily, gesturing with his right hand. "I am no hero!"

"For once, we can agree on something,"

The nobleman took a deep breath and turned to the one who spoke. Cassandra was glaring at him, her brown eyes blazing with fury, behind her, Varric was shaking his head, entreating Marcus to back down.

"You should not have spoken to Scout Harding like that!"

"I'll speak to anyone the way I want!" Marcus snapped, "And there is not a damn thing you can do about it!"

"Why you-"

What Cassandra was about to say was unclear for a loud noise stopped her from speaking. Marcus turned around to find causes of the explosion, and saw plumes of fire ascend into the air.

"That is no normal fire," Solas said, frowning as he studied the phenomenon "The mages are in that area,"

"That area is the Crossroads, where Mother Giselle is!" Cassandra exclaimed. "We must get there, hurry!"

"I don't suppose they are playing a game of Wicked Grace?" Varric suggested,

"What manner of Wicked Grace requires such an explosion," inquired Solas .

"The fun kind,"

Marcus chuckled, he was starting to like the dwarf.

"If you three would stop gossiping, there is work to be done!"

Cassandra ran forward sword and shield in hand and disappeared around the corner.

"Come on," Marcus muttered to his companions "There is work to be done,"

Marcus rounded the corner only to run into a sea of chaos, the mages had fallen upon the Inquisition soldiers with all manner of spells, ice glyphs sparkled in the bright sunlight, balls of fire flew through the air and lightening bolts crackled, as Inquisition soldiers tried their best to withstand the assault. Marcus also spotted men in leather armor and short swords trading blows with the Inquisition's men.

"Hold apostates we are not Templars!" Solas cried out,

"I don't think they are listening, Chuckles,"

Marcus saw Cassandra charging into battle with a loud war cry, drawing the attention of two sellswords and a mage. Marcus scanned the battlefield and quickly identified the mages as the real threat. Marcus' keen emerald eyes sought out the nearest mage. He leaned forward and began to run, pulling out his daggers as he did so. Swift and silent, Marcus covered the ground between him and the mage in quick time. The mage saw him coming too late, a young man probably no older than he was, with long brown hair and a black stubble. The mage fired an arcane bolt from his staff. Marcus dodged the attack nimbly and closed on his target. The mage didn't even have time to scream. Marcus brought his right dagger up towards the mage's throat. Hot blood streaked Marcus' face but he barely felt it as he spun around and stabbed the mage in the chest with his left dagger.

Marcus did not look at his dead victim. He did not want to see the face of someone he had just murdered. His eyes scanned the area for the next mage and saw one standing between a ledge and a man made barrier. He did not hesitate. Pulling up his brown hood for camouflage Marcus moved quickly behind the mage and climbed swiftly over the ledge the mage was hiding in. He jumped onto the man daggers flashing. The mage did not see the rogue who landed on him. Marcus plunged his daggers right into the nape of the mage's neck. He pulled out the daggers and rolled onto the ground in one, smooth motion. Marcus looked around to see what was happening. Cassandra was fighting three sellswords at once, while Varric and Solas were taking cover behind large rocks, trying to protect themselves from mage fire. Marcus moved to take care of the mages when he felt a tingling sensation at the back of his neck.

Marcus immediately ducked.

He felt something graze the side of his head. Marcus rolled out of range and turned to see who attacked him. Silver armor and a Templar crest were the only things Marcus saw before the rogue Templar charged at him. The Herald sidestepped the blow and rammed the pommel of his dagger at the back of the Templar's head. The man was not wearing a helmet and the attack dazed him. Marcus took advantage of the distraction and stabbed the Templar, plunging the blade into the delicate nape of the neck. Marcus felt something hard slam into him and he felt the wind knocked right out of him. Marcus fell back but still managed to hold on to his daggers. The Herald used the momentum of his fall to roll away from whoever had attacked. It was a lesson he learned very quickly on the battlefield: Always keep moving.

A Templar Guardsmen loomed over him Marcus instantly recognized the large shield and the winged helmet.

' _Shit_!'

Marcus staggered to his feet, Templar guardsmen were the elite within the ranks, anyone who joined this esteemed group were accomplished fighters, Marcus knew that he had his hands full.

The guardsmen lunged forward. Marcus barely had time to dodge the blow. He leapt out of the way and into the air, looming over his opponent. The guardsmen passed by him and Marcus smacked the man hard on the back of his helmet, as he landed on the ground. It wasn't enough the guardsmen spun around and swung his shield again, he caught Marcus in mid-air, hitting him hard in the middle. Marcus felt the wind knocked out of him in a 'swoosh'. Marcus felt his back hitting the hard unyielding ground. Before he could regain his breath the Templar loomed over him and swung his sword at Marcus. The Herald parried the blow and swiped at his feet. The Templar cried out in pain but it only angered the man. He lifted his shield and hit Marcus hard on the chest. Pain exploded in the nobleman's chest as he gasped for breath. He was robbed of all movement, as air left his lungs. He coughed and swung wildly at the Templar. The man dodged his attack and swung the shield again and hit Marcus in the chest.

The Hearld coughed and retched. ' _Shit! Shit! Shit!'_

Marcus lay on the ground panting hard his rib cage and chest aching from the vicious blows. He could not summon the energy to fight off the Templar, who now held up his sword with the blade facing downward, pointed directly at his chest.

' _I swear if I die I have some choice words for the Maker,'_

A loud war cry stopped the Templar from stabbing him in the chest. The warrior turned around only to be rammed by heavy shield. Marcus watched the Templar fall to the ground, before looking up at his savior. Cassandra stood over him her olive skinned face shinning with sweat as she panted hard.

"Are you all right?" she demanded,

"Oh, I am just _fantastic,_ " Marcus said, getting to his feet. "I was just taking a nap in the middle of a war zone,"

Marcus' conscience admonished him for his words. He would be dead had it not been for Cassandra, but he choose to ignore that voice. The Seeker rolled her eyes but did not say anything as the Templar came rushing at the both of them. Marcus rolled to a side, as Cassandra ran forward. The sound of metal clashing with metal grated on Marcus' ears. He moved behind the Templar who was locked in a fight with Cassandra and sliced the man in his knees. The Templar gasped in pain providing the opening Cassandra needed. She stabbed him in the base of his neck running her long sword right through till the blade could be seen protruding form the back of the man's neck. Marcus grimaced at the sight before looking around.

It seemed that the battle was now over. It had only lasted moments, there were corpses of mages and Templars lying around and a few Inquisition soldiers. But most of the soldiers still standing wore the colors of the Inquisition. They were moving around tending to their wounded and seeing what supplies could be looted from the dead.

"Come," Cassandra said, snapping Marcus out of his reverie. "Let us see Mother Giselle… and tend to your wound,"

* * *

Marcus felt uncomfortable. Mother Giselle was making him feel uncomfortable. She did not say or do anything in particular but her countenance radiated with peace and gentleness, that he was not used to seeing that from women her age. Women her age did not look at Marcus with a gentle but curious smile, they either looked at him as something disgusting or something to be devoured.

"This mage will heal your wounds, Herald," said Mother Giselle.

A young elf in apostate robes approached Marcus, he immediately gave the mage a furtive look. Mother Giselle noticed it and spoke.

"Do not worry, they are not like the apostates who attacked the Crossroads. His magic has been turned to gentle purpose,"

"I am more concerned about his wandering hands," Marcus replied, warily.

The young noblemen had traveled frequently, he had seen how some 'healers' had taken advantage of their hapless patients.

The elven mage chuckled, "Do not worry, Herald," he said, "There is no need for physical contact,"

Marcus brightened up at that statement. "In that case, carry on,"

The mage held out his hands, forming a blue ball of light. As the healing session began Marcus turned to Mother Giselle.

"I hope you weren't hurt in the skirmish," he said,

The Revered Mother shook her head, "Your Inquisition soldiers did magnificently,"

Marcus chuckled at that comment.

"They are not my soldiers, Mother," he replied. "But we came here for a reason, I believe you wanted to speak to me?"

"Indeed," replied the Revered Mother in a soft tone. "I know of the Chantry's denouncement and I am familiar with those behind it,"

Marcus nodded, "Go on,"

"I won't lie to you many are of grand standing, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine,"

Marcus couldn't help but shake his head in disgust, a giant Breach in the sky and instead of doing what was best for Thedas, the Chantry was caught up in petty squabbles. Marcus expected this sort of behavior from nobles in Ostwick, but he never thought that the Chantry would stoop to such behavior. Mother Giselle obviously noticed the look of disgust on Marcus' face, her next words indicated this.

"Some are simply terrified, so many good people senselessly taken from us,"

Marcus nodded, "What happened was horrible," he said. "But it doesn't excuse this type of behaviour from the Chantry,"

Marcus could remember the times when he was just a boy, and took his lessons from a sister in the Chantry. Though no one made statement, the fact that he took lessons from a servant of the Chantry, and not a private tutor, gave young Marcus the impression that the Chantry was all knowing, unshakable in a crisis and indomitable. It had taken him years to change that impression of the Chantry.

"Fear makes us desperate but hopefully not beyond all reason," Mother Giselle continued, "Go to them convince the remaining clerics you are no demon to be feared,"

Marcus gasped in surprise, was the mother being serious?

"You want me to march into Val Royeaux and appeal to the Chantry?" he gasped, "Why?"

"Because they have heard only frightening tales of you," replied the Mother, "Give them something else to believe,"

"What tales are those?" Marcus said, bitterly, "The part where I had to fight through a horde of demons with my arm throbbing in pain, or the part where I nearly killed myself trying to close that giant, demon spewing hole in the sky?"

Marcus shook his head "What makes you think that appealing to them will work?"

"If I thought you incapable then I won't have suggested it," Mother Giselle, "Let me put it this way, you need not convince them. You only need some of them to _doubt,_ "

Marcus nodded, the noblemen in him could see the logic in that. Words had power, back home he had seen good men and women have their reputations desecrated by a few well placed rumors by their opposition. But could he just march into Val Royeux and not expect any incident?

"I will go to Haven and speak to Leliana about those who are amendable to a gathering," said Mother Giselle, catching the thoughtful look on Marcus' face.

The Hearld nodded, "The road to Haven isn't exactly quiet," he said, "I suggest you come with us, when we eventually return, or at least go with an escort,"

Mother Giselle smiled at him, "That is kind of you Herald, but I cannot postpone my journey. A gathering will take time and we cannot afford any more delays,"

Mother Giselle turned to leave but stopped and turned to Marcus.

"It is uncertain whether you were sent by divine intervention or by providence," she said, "But I hope, for you could turn the Inquisition into a force that could deliver us or destroy us, I sincerely hope it's the former,"

Marcus smiled, he would have laughed but his rib cage was still sore.

"But you are mistaken, Mother," he said, "I am not the leader of the Inquisition, nor will I ever be,"

Mother Giselle smiled at the nobleman's comment, something that surprised him.

"We shall see about that now, shall we?"

Mother Giselle turned and walked away, no doubt to prepare for her journey to Haven. The mage who had been healing Marcus stood up.

"Right, you should be okay now,"

Marcus got to his feet and took a deep breath, his rib cage did feel a lot better, though he still felt a little sore. He did a few stretches testing his rib cage, but he felt no pain.

"Good job," he said, pleased, "Thank you,"

The mage smiled and nodded, "It was my pleasure, Herald of Andraste,"

Marcus nodded. He was not sure if he truly was the Herald, but he would be damned if he didn't like the sound of that title. Marcus picked up his daggers and sheathed them, with one last nod to the mage he turned and walked away. Cassandra, Solas and Varric had kept a respectful distance while Marcus spoke with Mother Giselle but now approached the young man, with curious looks on their faces.

"What did the Mother say?" Cassandra asked,

"Oh nothing important," Marcus said, "She just wants me to go to the lion's den and hope that said lion doesn't eat me,"

"What are you talking about?"

Marcus sighed, "Val Royeux, she wants me to go to Val Royeux and appeal to the Chantry,"

Cassandra did not bat an eyelash, "I feared that she would say something like that," she replied, "But that is a debate for another time. The Crossroads still need securing, the mages and templars will retaliate and we must stop them before they do,"

Marcus groaned."This is just fantastic," he grumbled.

* * *

Cassandra had been convinced that she would never meet another person in the world who infuriated her as much as Varric did, but evidently she was wrong. She had only known Marcus Trevelyan for a few days but she was already furious with the man, he was a spoiled, petty noblemen who refused to take responsibility. The title 'Herald of Andraste' may not have been something he invented, but the title now stuck whether he liked it or not and he had to take the responsibility by leading their small party, but he refused,

"I am not the person in charge here," he had snapped, when Cassandra suggested he take charge. "You are!"

If there was one thing that Cassandra could not stand about people, it was their refusal to take responsibility, and Marcus was shying away from his duties, whether, it was an act of petty rebellion, or perhaps, fear, Cassandra wasn't sure and she didn't care to find out. It also didn't help that the man had formed a strange friendship with Varric, she could hear the two of them right now, regaling each other with stories, like a group of fishwives. The Maker had made an odd choice in this man, Cassandra sincerely hoped that it wasn't all for nothing, that there was more to the Maker's plan than letting Divine Justinia die, while bringing peace to all of Thedas.

"So Seeker, what's our plan?"

Cassandra growled in agitation, Varric was getting bolder now, no doubt because of his newfound friend. The Seeker took a deep breath to cool her temper before answering.

"We are going to secure the Crossroads," she said, "So that refugees have a safe place to settle down,"

"How are we going to do that?" pressed the dwarf.

"I was getting to that, _Varric,_ the plan is to secure camps in areas that surround the Crossroads, so that we are in a better position to keep them safe,"

"Sounds like fun,"

Marcus' casual sarcasm, grated on Cassandra's nerves and she spun around to face the man. The four of them had been walking along the road, but now stopped, as Cassandra cast a fierce look upon the younger nobleman.

"This is not fun!" she nearly shouted, "This is a duty and a responsibility! One that must be taken with utter seriousness, something that _you_ have no concept of,"

Marcus held up his hands in surrender, though it was clear from the look on his face, that he wasn't taking her seriously.

' _Incompetent fool,'_ Cassandra thought angrily, as she spun around and continued to make their way down the road.

They had barely walked ten paces when she heard something that grated on her nerves, _again_.

"Uh, kid, what are you doing?"

Cassandra turned around, Marcus was on one knee, and was cutting a green plant with one of his daggers.

"Its elfroot, Varric," he explained, "We can use it if one of us gets injured in a fight,"

"You can pick flowers another time!" Cassandra snapped, "We are wasting time with all this nonsense,"

"Elfroot is not a flower, its a plant," Marcus said casually, "But I might have seen some embrium in the area..."

Cassandra shook her head in annoyance.

"Urgh!"

' _First that dwarf, now that idiot fool! Why does the Maker throw these people in my path?'_ she asked.

Cassandra made her way towards the other end of the tunnel, with Solas a few paces behind her. When Cassandra made her way out of the tunnel and into a large clear area with trees and hills on either side, there was a ruined fortress in the distance, but Cassandra barely noticed any of these details. For a scene of utter devastation lay before the Seeker's eyes, houses were on fire, carts were over turned and rubble was lying everywhere. Evidence that a vicious battle had taken place here, Cassandra unsheathed her sword and shield. Battle cries reached her ears and she surveyed the area carefully until she spotted the cause of all the chaos.

"Look at this!" she cried out in alarm, "The apostates have gone mad with power,"

"I see just as many Templars, Cassandra," Solas said grimly.

A battle ensued both the Templars and Mages charged at Cassandra and her group. The Seeker led the charge, raising her shield high, she clashed with a Templar guardsmen. Solas placed a magical barrier on the entire team before launching volleys of ice magic at other mages. Varric unloaded Bianca, focusing his weapon on the Templar archers in the background. Marcus… Cassandra had no idea where the man was, she would not put it passedhim to scamper off when the danger came. With a loud cry, Cassandra parried a vicious blow from a Templar. A mercenary in leather armor came charging. Cassandra held up her shield and pushed him away. Before she could retaliate with her longsword, another Templar charged at her and she was forced to block him. The Templars and mercenaries were focused on her. Cassandra counted at least six men trying to outflank her. Solas and Varric were preoccupied with the enemy skirmishers to help her.

' _I have to fight my way out of this,'_ Cassandra called upon years of hard training and superior skill and dispatched three of her opponents.

A sellsword lunged, Cassandra retaliated throwing herself forward to throw the man off his balance. However, the sellsword fell back. Another one came up to her side, a victorious grin on his face. Cassandra realized that she had fallen into a trap, her side was exposed and she could not turn around in time to defend herself because he was too close. The mercenary lashed out, aiming for her rib cage. Then he gasped and froze. Cassandra thought that Solas had cast a spell. But the mercenary fell to his knees and looming over his dying body was the Herald of Andraste. The young man did not waste a second, he slit the mercenary's throat. Blood sprayed all over the ground as Marcus tossed the dying man aside and grinned at her.

"Your welcome,"

The remaining three men roared and charged at the nobleman. Marcus held up his two daggers before diving in the fray. Marcus was quick on his feet, flexible and agile. He dived and jumped around, dancing out of his opponents range. Cassandra was surprised, she did not expect Marcus to be so skilled, she had assumed that the nobleman was a complete novice, given how he was almost killed bu a Templar. Shaking her head, to regain her focus, Cassandra dived into the fray again with a loud war cry.

The battle was won and the field cleared of both mages and Templars. Together the four of them made their way up the hills, towards the lake. Lake Luthias was the ideal place for a camp, close to a water source and elevated above the fields of the Hinterlands, here, soldiers of the Inquisition could rest without fear of being set on. It also gave a remarkable view of their surroundings. Cassandra sent a smoke signal to the Inquisition soldiers in the Crossroads and hung around long enough to ensure that scouts were making a camp before deciding to press on, something that Solas and Varric protested.

"Come on Seeker," said the dwarf, "We just fought a hard battle, lets rest before moving on,"

"We fought a minor skirmish," Cassandra said, "Nothing more, we cannot afford to waste time,"

"Seeker, with all due respect," Solas said, "It would not hurt to take a few moments of rest before continuing,"

"No, there is no time," Cassandra insisted.

Varric turned to Marcus, "What do you think about this, kiddo?"

Marcus was standing a few feet away, his eyes focused elsewhere, as he casually spun his dagger in his right hand.

' _He's going to hurt someone,'_

"Push on, rest now," Marcus shrugged, "It doesn't matter, we need to get the job done sooner or later,"

"Your enthusiasm knows no bounds, Herald," Cassandra said in a dry voice.

"You are welcome, Seeker," Marcus said, "So, are we continuing or not?"

"We need to seek out the Templars and Mages," Cassandra said, "And put an end to their harassment of the Crossroads,"

Marcus nodded, Cassandra glared at the man who continued to stare nonchalantly ahead, as if he couldn't care less about what was going on around him. Leliana had mentioned that the Herald was from nobility. He like many people of the noble class clearly did not care about struggles of ordinary people. Cassandra shook her head in disgust and walked away.

* * *

"So here we are, Chuckles," said Varric,

"Here we are indeed, Master Tethras," Solas said.

Marcus was lingering behind both the elf and the dwarf, the noblemen caught the mischievous gleam in their eyes, and smiled. The two of them were going to poke fun at Cassandra again.

"An elf and a dwarf trying to clean up another human mess,"The dwarven merchant said, "Whatever would the humans do without us,"

"I suspect they would try to blow something up," Solas said,

" _Again_ ,"

Cassandra turned and around glared at her companions. "If you two gentlemen are quite finished!" she snapped.

Marcus smiled and laughed, as both elf and dwarf feigned innocence under her stern gaze, he knew that he should be offended at the jab at his race, but he honestly wasn't. He knew he why they were making fun of Cassandra, and frankly, he would have preferred some rest before heading to fight a demon and the wolves under its possession. Master Dennet's wife had asked them to take care of the wolves so that the farmers could return to work. Cassandra seemed annoyed about having to do such menial work (it was probably why she was driving the team so hard), but Marcus understood the value of what they were doing. Not only was Dennet hoping to restore order to the area, he was testing the Inquisition seeing what they were worth, before giving them his most prized assets. Marcus did not mind performing all these tasks for Fereldan's preeminent horse master, especially if they got something out of all the work they did… possibly Master Dennet himself?

"Stand ready, this is where the wolves are said to be residing," Cassandra commanded.

Marcus looked incredulously at the Seeker's back before glancing behind him. They had just tackled a fade rift, the demons pouring out posed a huge challenge which they barely managed to scrap through, but now Cassandra wanted to push on towards the wolves? Marcus shook his head, he would have backed down for a moment, he didn't know what they were going to face at the caves and it was better to have the team rested and ready before…. Marcus shook his head.

' _When did I suddenly care about the Inquisition and its teams?'_

A low feral growl shook Marcus out of his reverie and he looked up. Cassandra had already engaged a pack of wolves, who were going to encircle her, shaking his head, he pulled out his daggers and followed her into battle.

* * *

A/N: _What are your thoughts on the chapter, do not hesitate to review!_


	4. Towards Val Royeux

A/N: _Hello, everyone, thanks to everyone who has reviewed, liked and followed this story! Now lets get it on with Chapter 4!_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4 - Towards Val Royeux**_

Sister Nightingale read the latest report from Cassandra, on their latest excursions in the Hinterlands. Usually, Cassandra's reports take on a plain, dull monotone, full of short sentences, direct and to the point but no embellishment. But this report was different from the rest, Leliana was able to sense anger, frustration and doubt in the Seeker's latest report.

All these emotions were centered around one person: The Herald of Andraste.

Cassandra complained about the man's lack of interest in taking the lead when he should be, she complained about how the man just didn't care about the gravity of the situation but most of all, she complained about the _wasted_ potential. Cassandra described his skill in battle, his fluid movements and his ability to stalk his opponents silently. Leliana lips quirked in amusement at how…. detailed Cassandra's description of the Herald was. But the Spymaster was troubled, and not just because of the reluctant Herald. Was this how the Maker intended to repay her years of faith? She had left her lover's side, she had left her dear Theron, even when it tore at her heart, to help Justinia do the Maker's work and was this how he intended to reward her? By taking Justinia and giving them this…. fool?

According to the reports, Marcus was in his mid-twenties,

' _Theron was the same age when he became a Warden,'_

And yet the two could not have been more different. Theron had never truly enjoyed being a Grey Warden but had accepted the responsibility with stoicism and dedicated himself to completing what seemed like an impossible task. His calm and reassuring persona was the anchor that steered the ship through the stormy waters of the Blight, those brown eyes that burnt with an intensity that set her emotions…

' _Don't go there, Leliana'_ she told herself, sternly. ' _Not now,'_

Thinking of Theron brought back memories of a time when she had been happy and as the Spymaster of the Inquisition, she could not afford to feel such emotions. Leliana looked down at the report from Cassandra about the Herald. The man had not made a positive impression about the Inquisition's leaders, with his short temper and indifferent attitude. Josephine had described him as an 'interesting character', which was her way of saying that she could not stand the man and Cullen told her that he would rather gouge out his eyes than have a drink with the man. Leliana sighed and put aside the report, perhaps it was best that Marcus remained uninterested. It would be proof to the Chantry that he was not some power hungry fool. Moreover, the man did not have to lead anything, he just had to close Fade Rifts and ultimately the Breach itself, once it was done, then they will see.

* * *

"The original Inquisition was formed well before the Chantry, but after the first Blight," Mother Giselle explained to Marcus.

They were on the path to Haven and the cold wind bit at them. Mother Giselle was wrapped in a dark leather cloak, Marcus was dressed in his simple black and blue armor, he had lent his cloak to a soldier, on learning that there was a shortage in their entourage. Though the Mother had began her journey four weeks before Marcus and his group left the Hinterlands, she traveled with refugees, many of whom were ill, and frequent stops were needed. When Cassandra had received word from Leliana to return to Haven, the small group had traveled quickly, until they caught up to the group the Mother traveled with. Mother Giselle was telling Marcus about the first Inquisition, though the nobleman appreciated the background knowledge, he wasn't quite sure if she had an ulterior motive for telling him all this, did she think _he_ was going to be involved in the Inquisition once the Breach was closed?

"The Inquisition of old were fanatics and warriors, who hunted down mages and abominations with little or no mercy,"

Marcus shrugged casually, "They did what they had to do," he said, "It was a difficult time for everyone,"

Mother Giselle looked surprised, Marcus smiled when he noticed the way she looked at him.

"Mother, you yourself said that it was after the first Blight, if my memory serves well, it was utter chaos. The original Inquisition did what they had to do,"

"It is true that one must perform one's duty, whatever it might be," Mother Giselle muttered, "But doesn't the way one _does_ one's duty matter?"

Marcus thought about it, "I think it doesn't matter," he said, "You get the job done no matter what, take the first Inquisition, as an example, they prevented Thedas from falling apart, until Andraste began to spread the Maker's word. We call them fanatics today only because they gave us that luxury,"

"But _how_ you do things matters as well," Mother Giselle, "Tell me would the Dalish Warden be so readily accepted as the Hero Of Ferelden if he had not found a way to save the humans from the werewolf curse _and_ ensure peace with the Clan whose keeper placed the curse? Would he have been so readily embraced, if he had not found a way to ensure that King Alistair and Queen Anora came together in an alliance that saw Ferelden stand strong after weathering a Blight?"

"He also killed the Arl of Redcliffe's son when the boy became an abomination, even though many in his camp protested the act," Marcus said. "It would have been ugly at the time, but none of it matters now, he saved Ferelden that was all that mattered. At the end of the day, you are defined by what you accomplish, how you do it, is not important,"

"Mother Giselle,"

Both Marcus and the Mother to see Cassandra, she was dressed in her black and white armor and she held a winged templar helmet in one hand. Marcus frowned briefly at the armor.

"Haven, is not far off, Mother," she said, "We should be there at any moment,"

"Excellent, I will spread word amongst the refugees, it has been a long and difficult journey for them. They will be glad to here that we are close to our destination,"

The Mother turned to Marcus, "Thank you for your time, Herald," she said, "Your views have been most interesting,"

"Thank you for telling me about the original Inquisition, Mother," Marcus replied.

The Mother walked away trudging through the snow,

"I heard some of the things, you said to Mother Giselle," Cassandra said.

Marcus turned to her, feeling a small twinge of annoyance.

"Did you truly mean what you said?" she asked, "The part where it doesn't matter how you perform your duty, so as long as it is done?"

"Yes, why?"

"It is just that…"

"You don't agree," It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Its just that I am certain that the Templars in Kirkwall thought the same thing,"

Marcus' anger flared at her words,

"Don't you dare compare to me those bastards!" he snapped, getting right into Cassandra's face.

To her credit, the Seeker did not back away, she did not even flinch.

"The Templars in Kirkwall were thugs and brutes, who enjoyed brutalizing mages, who would have otherwise lived quietly in the Circle!" he snapped, "Meredith didn't give a damn about doing her job, she just wanted to take over Kirkwall!"

"You do not know that!"

"Of course I do!" Marcus snapped, "I was there!"

Silence followed this declaration, Marcus glared at the Seeker, feeling anger coursing through his veins, memories of that fateful night crashed down hard on him. The smell of blood and smoke choking him, the horrifying sights of abominations, mangled bodies and tattered corpses. But what Marcus could remember most was the fear, even though the screams of war and terror sent shivers down his spine. All of it because Meredith wanted power, because Templars were so caught up in their lust for power, that in the end, it was all their saw. Marcus glared angrily at Cassandra.

"Don't ever compare me to the Templars," he snapped, "I am not one of them, and I am _certainly_ not part of your Inquisition,"

Cassandra took a deep breath, as if trying very hard to restrain herself.

"I had no idea you feel so strongly on the matter and I apologize," she said. "All I am trying to say is I believe that our conduct speaks more than our intentions ever could,"

Marcus rolled his eyes, "Easy for you to say," he said, "You are a Seeker, you will have to practically beg people to stop helping you,"

Cassandra snorted. "In my experience, it has been the other way around,"

"Maybe its because you presume they are guilty when they are actually innocent," Marcus said, "Varric told me about how you get things done,"

Cassandra's eyes flashed in anger, Marcus took great delight in that.

"Perhaps Varric forgot to mention the part, where I had very good reason to do what I did, perhaps he also forgot to mention that I could have done much worse,"

"Why? Because you are lying, untrustworthy woman, who switches her allegiance at the drop of her dime?"

Something flashed across Cassandra's eyes and with a low growl, she raised a clenched fist, no doubt to punch him. Marcus quickly leaped into a defensive position, ready to counter any attack and dish out his own….

"My Lady?"

If the scout had known what was taking place between the Herald and the Seeker, he would have ran away. Cassandra took a deep breath and turned towards the scout.

"What is it?"

"Haven, we are almost upon the gates of Haven," he reported.

Cassandra took a deep breath, Marcus could see that she was trying very hard to restrain herself, from lashing out.

' _Come on,'_ he thought, ' _I'll show you that I am not so easy to beat when I am not tied down,'_

However, Cassandra lowered her fist and turned to the scout.

"I will be there shortly," she said.

She turned back to Marcus with a spiteful glare, "Talking to you was a mistake,"

"So was taking me prisoner," he snapped.

The Seeker didn't say anything else and walked away.

* * *

"Mother Giselle's suggestion is not a terrible idea,"

"You can't be serious!"

"The Mother is not wrong the Chantry's only power is that they are united in opinion,"

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?"

"Lets ask him,"

A tense silence followed as all members of the Inquisition's war council turned to hear Marcus' thoughts. The Herald of Andraste groaned and began to pace the length of the room, thinking, Mother Giselle was convinced that the Chantry saw him as some ungodly usurper and she wanted him to break that opinion, the problem was what would he have to do to convince the Chantry? What would the Chantry clerics do once they got to Val Royeux? As Marcus contemplated his words, Cullen lost patience.

"Hurry up and speak already," he snapped, "The Inquisition has a lot on its plate then your petty worries,"

"My petty worries," snapped Marcus, "Should be your concern, _Commander,_ unless you woke up this morning with the ability to close the Breach?"

Cullen scowled at Marcus and opened his mouth to say something, but Josephine quickly intervened.

"What are your thoughts on the matter, Herald?"

"I understand what Mother Giselle wants me to do, but I am more concerned about what the Chantry will do, they may see this is an opportunity to…. reassert themselves,"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Cassandra demanded.

"What the Herald is trying to say," said Josephine, "Is that the Chantry may resort to drastic measures, perhaps even violent measures in order to reassure the people that they are still very much in control… even if they are not,"

"Then I will go with him," Cassandra said.

Marcus rolled his eyes at the words, "Comforting,"

Cassandra ignored him and turned Leliana, "Mother Giselle gave us names, use them,"

"But why?" asked Leliana, "What if the Herald is right? This is nothing but a-"

"What choice do we have Leliana?" Cassandra asked, "We can't approach anyone else for help with the Breach,"

Marcus shook his head, he was certain that marching into Val Royeux was a death sentence, the Orleisan capital was literally, the center of Chantry power, the remaining clerics would be desperate to make a statement in a city that had been their home for years. Marcus Trevelyan turned to walk out the door, not caring if the Inquisition's meeting was over.

"Just one more thing, Ser Trevelyan,"

Marcus stopped, sighed deeply and turned to look at Josephine.

"Its not Ser Trevelyan," Marcus sighed, "That title is reserved for my father and brother… mostly my brother, just call me Ser Marcus,"

"Very well, Ser Marcus, there is one other matter that we need to attend to,"

Marcus nodded, wearily, now that the matter with the Chantry had been discussed, he wanted nothing more than to leave this cursed room.

"What?"

"A group of soldiers have gone missing on the Storm Coast, if you could…."

Marcus shook his head, at once, he was already dragged into something that he didn't want to be in, he wasn't going to be suckered into anymore responsibility, no matter how bad it might seem.

"Send a rescue squad," Marcus said, with a dismissive shrug. " Or just pull out of the area,"

Marcus turned around and walked away, ignoring the hostile looks he was receiving from Cassandra and Cullen.

* * *

Whenever Varric Tethras ran into one of his fans, he was always be asked one question, 'How do you do it?' Even now as he walked out of the tavern, people came up eagerly, trying to understand the storyteller. Varric always evaded the question with a snide comment or clever quip, but the truth was that he was _surrounded_ by stories, whether it was a small story of the baker working laboriously to provide for her children, or the epic tale of Hawke's ascent in Kirkwall, Varric Tethras was surrounded by tales just waiting to be embellished upon. Varric shivered and pulled his jacket around him, studying his surroundings. Haven, itself was a story, once a secret location, where its guardians protected the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it was now the witness of Inquisition's ascent from the ashes of the Conclave's destruction… and at the center of it all, was none other than Marcus Trevelyan.

Varric had taken a liking to the young man, sure, he was a little hot headed, but nothing compared to Bartrand. Varric had spent years dealing (reluctantly) with some of the shrewd merchants in Southern Thedas and had learned to read a person's character, just by looking at them. When Varric looked at Marcus, he saw anger and a determination to rebel against everything thrown at him. But Varric had also seen something else, he had seen a light, Varric couldn't put his finger but Marcus carried the same sort of gravitas that Hawke had, the same charisma and confidence that told Varric that a Fereldan refugee could become so much more, if only given the chance. The Chantry needed to see that side of Marcus, the _Inquisition_ needed to see the light in him, otherwise the world's only hope for closing the Breach and restoring order would be snuffed out. So Varric sought Marcus out determined to talk to him and understand what was going through his mind. Varric made his way onto the courtyard, the clash steel echoed across the sky, as recruits trained hard under the watchful eye of their superiors, Cullen was training them hard. Varric could make out Cassandra whacking away at a wooden practice doll with her great sword. With a loud cry, Cassandra swung her great sword and nearly shattered the doll to pieces. Varric winced and scurried away, she was undoubtedly thinking about Marcus as she battered that poor wooden doll.

Varric soon spotted Marcus, he too was practicing with a wooden doll, though he was practicing away from the others. Varric approached him rather cautiously, watching Marcus perform his moves. He darted around the doll and swiped viciously at what could have been the doll's legs, midsection and neck. Varric was irresistibly reminded of Isabela, possibly the only other person he met who fought with two daggers, though their styles could not have been any more different. Isabela loved taunting her opponents, she loved luring them into a duel and finishing them off with quick blows. Marcus, however, seemed more interesting in finishing off his enemies before they even saw him. Varric came closer and the dull ' _thwack'_ of steel on wood reached his ears.

"Kid?"

Marcus stopped and turned around, he was breathing hard and there was a sheen sweat across his forehead, but his green eyes were intense as he looked at Varric.

"Varric," he sounded, a little surprised, "Nice to see you,"

"Yeah, good to see you," Varric, "Listen, I was hoping we could talk… in private,"

Marcus looked at him again, pinning him down with another stare. "Something tells me, you are not going to give me the latest chapter of Hard in High Town?"

"Its still a work in progress," Varric replied, "Its about the Conclave,"

Marcus took a deep breath and sighed in frustration, "If you are going to give me a few pointers on how to appeal to the Chantry priests than you can save it," he snapped.

"I am the last person to give you advice about talking to the Chantry," Varric replied, "Besides, I am not here to talk about the Chantry, but about other stuff,"

Marcus nodded and sheathed his daggers, "We can talk in my cabin?"

"You have a cabin?" Varric said in surprise, the rest of them were simply making due in tents.

Marcus smiled, it was a more a quirk of his upper lip. "I guess being Herald has _some_ benefits,"

The two of them quickly made their way to the cabin, Varric noticed Cassandra glaring at the two of them, he looked away, not in the mood to irritate her, but he saw Marcus glaring right back at her.

"You don't like her much do you?"

"Darn right I don't,"

The two of them walked side by side until they made it to the cabin, where Marcus was unconscious for three days before he woke up. Marcus opened the door and ushered Varric inside.

"No one enters this place," he said, "Guess its _hallowed ground,"_

Varric nodded and walked inside, feeling warmth wash over him, as Marcus closed the door. "Cosy,"

Marcus didn't say anything and merely sat down on the bed, he kicked a stool in Varric's direction, the dwarf took the invitation and sat down.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

Varric knew that he had two ways to play this, he could ease into the conversation with a few snide comments and joke, or take a more direct route. He decided to go for the former.

"Boy that Cassandra? She's something, huh?"

Marcus snorted, "She's crazy, deceitful and a stuck up man-woman,"

"Uh…"

' _Okay, maybe not the best way to open a talk,'_

"Varric, whatever, you wanted to say, you can come out and say it," Marcus said, "I wouldn't bite you or anything,"

"Right," Varric said, now starting to feel little uncomfortable at what he was about to do, "Look, here's the thing, I don't usually give pep talks of any kind,"

Marcus nodded, "Then don't think about it as a _pep talk_ ," he said, "Just focus on what's on your mind and give it voice,"

Varric blinked in surprise, he nodded and began to focus on his thoughts, rather than the words.

"I like to believe that I am as selfish as every dwarf in the Merchant's Guild," he said, "But the truth is that I am worried that the world is destroying itself, demons, a hole in the sky? I don't know if any one hero can solve this mess,"

"Well, we don't have heroes," Marcus said, "We have the _Inquisition_ ,"

"That's the thing, Cassandra, Leliana…. They will do what they can, but-"

"I know, I know," Marcus said, rolling his eyes, "I have the Mark, I can close the Breach,"

"I am not talking about the Mark, kid!" Varric said, "I am talking about the fact that you are the only one who can convince the Chantry to see reason,"

"What makes you say that?"

"I have a feeling, about people," Varric replied, "And I think you've got what it takes to convince the people that the Inquisition is on their side,"

For a moment, Marcus only stared at Varric, the look on his face hard to discern. Just when Varric was starting to get uncomfortable again, Marcus spoke,

"You are wrong, Varric," Marcus said, "There is nothing special about me, there never was,"

"Kid, listen-"

"No, you listen!" Marcus shouted, getting to his feet. "If there was anything special about me, my life would have been very different! If there was anything special about me, I would have made different choices! And I WOULD NOT BE IN THIS FREEZING WASTELAND!"

Marcus turned around and punched the wall, behind him. Varric jumped in surprise at the loud noise. He held up his hands in a placating gesture,

' _Nice going, Varric,'_ he thought, ' _You really messed this one up,'_

"Look, I didn't-"

"I know you are worried about the Breach, Varric," Marcus said, "But this… this isn't helping,"

Varric sighed, feeling disappointed, not in Marcus, but in himself. He had come here to coax the best out of the young man, all he had done was demoralize him. Not knowing what else to say, Varric got up and made his way towards the door, as he stepped out of the door and turned to close the door behind him, he could hear Marcus say, "Better choices, I should have made better choices,"

* * *

 _Marcus Trevelyan was excited, he could not believe that Ser Alrik, one of the most preeminent Knights in the Order was asking_ _him_ _to perform a special task. Here was another opportunity to prove himself worthy of the name Trevelyan, here was another opportunity to make his parents proud._

' _Try not to fall behind Trevelyan," Clyde sneered, "Ser Alrik doesn't want to be kept waiting,"_

 _"Of course!"_

 _Clyde led Marcus into a completely different section of the Circle, the stone courtyard was no different from the one in the Templar's sleeping area, however, Marcus felt a chill crawl through his spine and he began to feel uneasy about the place he was in._

 _"Clyde, where are we?"_

 _"This is where the Harrowing Chambers are held," Clyde explained,_

 _"Am I expected to watch over an Initiate as they take their Harrowing?,"_

 _"Not precisely,"_

 _Clyde's tone suddenly made Marcus uneasy, but he followed his fellow student. Clyde led Marcus down a long, narrow passageway with a series of doors, many of them had runes marked on it. Marcus recognized the rune designs, these runes were meant to seal doors, making it impervious to forms of magical attack. Clyde led Marcus into another passage at the lower level, he could feel the air grow colder with each passing step._

 _"Clyde, where are we?"_

 _"I trust you know about Tranquility?"_

 _Marcus cringed but nodded, tranquility, was said to be a last resort, when a mage was deemed too weak to resist the temptations of a demon, a lyrium mark would be branded on their forehead, severing their connection to the Fade. The mark protected the former mages from possession but also robbed them of all personality._

 _"What of it?" Marcus asked,_

 _"There is a special Chamber where we make mages tranquil," Clyde explained, "Right beneath the Harrowing Chamber,"_

 _Clyde suddenly stopped and turned to face Marcus. The two students were standing outside a door,_

 _"You are going to make a mage tranquil,"_

 _A loud, terrified scream came from the door, and it sent chills through Marcus' body. His heart started to beat rapidly, he started to feel very uneasy. Clyde saw the look on Marcus' face and said,_

 _"Steel your heart, mages are not people but things, as we learned in training," '_

 _Things?'_

 _Clyde gestured towards the door, "You first,"_

 _Marcus took a deep breath and nodded, he grasped the door knob and opened the door._

 _A horrific scene greeted him, the room was small, and resembled a dungeon cell with its stone walls and floor, in the center of the room was chair, strapped to the chair, was a young female mage. Torches in the room cast a gloomy, yellow light, highlighting the women's terrified blue eyes and frantic expression, as she looked at the newcomers._

 _"No!" she cried, "I haven't done anything, Please!"_

 _"You have been a very bad girl, my dear," said a male voice._

 _Marcus glanced at the speaker, Ser Alrik's piercing blue eyes were looking at the girl, there was a glint in those eyes that disturbed Marcus._

 _"Please," pleaded the mage, desperately, "Please don't do this! I haven't done anything wrong,"_

 _"My dear," he purred, "You have done wrong by the Circle, simply by expressing distaste with the way things are,"_

 _The mage whimpered and shook her head in denial._

 _"I have brought him, Ser Alrik," said Clyde._

 _Ser Alrik turned to the newcomers, his cold blue eyes studying Marcus._

 _"You must be Marcus Trevelyan," he said, "I have heard so much about you,"_

 _Marcus didn't reply, his eyes were on the mage, who was looking at him, beseeching him silently to act on her behalf. Ser Alrik noticed the direction of his gaze and glanced back at the mage._

 _"I see you have noticed our guest, I trust Clyde told you what you had to do,"_

 _Marcus' throat was stuck, and he could barely speak, he simply nodded. The mage whimpered again,_

 _"Be quiet! said a voice._

 _Marcus jumped in surprise, he had noticed that there were two other templars, beside Ser Alrik in the room, flanking the helpless mage, who was strapped to the chair._

 _"Well, then here you go,"_

 _To Marcus' astonishment, Ser Alrik held up the branding device, it was a long metal stick with a metal mark on the which was glowing bright blue with lyrium. As if he was in trance, Marcus grabbed the stick and began to move towards the mage. The young woman shook her head violently, Marcus looked into her blue eyes, pleading him not to do it._

 _"Well?,"_

 _"Was she deemed too weak to keep her connection to the Fade?"_

 _Marcus asked Ser Alrik. The mage shook her head, a templar raised his hand and hit the mage hard across the face. Marcus winced at the blow, his heart was beating rapidly, and he knew something was off. If he recalled his lessons, one cannot just make a mage tranquil, there was procedure to follow…._

 _"What was the mage's crime?" he asked,_

 _"Crime?"_

 _"Yes, according to-"_

 _"Her crime is that she dared question how things are run in the Circle,"_

 _"But…"_

 _Marcus glanced hesitantly at the mage, tears were streaming down her face._

 _"Is there a problem, Ser Marcus,"_

 _Something inside Marcus snapped,_

 _"I… can't," he said, "I just can't,"_

 _Someone grabbed Marcus by the scruff of his neck and turned him around, it was one of the templars, who were holding down the mage._

 _"I knew he didn't have the strength for it!"_

 _"Indeed," Ser Alrik said, "Perhaps a demonstration, to harden his resolve,"_

 _The templar shoved Marcus aside and grabbed the mage by the neck to hold her steady. She was shaking frantically, pleading with the Templars who loomed over here menacingly._

 _"Wait, Ser Alrik there is no need!"_

 _Marcus felt something sharp and cold press against the nape of his neck and he went very still._

 _"Not another word Trevelyan," whispered Clyde from behind, "Not another sound,"_

 _Marcus was terrified, his heart was hammering in his chest, and his breathing quickened._

 _"I-I don't," he muttered, "What's?"_

 _"Not a sound!"_

 _Marcus stared in horror, as Ser Alrik loomed over the terrified young woman, who was now trying to shake off her two templar holders._

 _"Once you are made tranquil,"_

 _Ser Alrik in a voice that made Marcus' skin crawl._

 _"You will do whatever I say,"_

 _Without another word, Alrik thrust the brand onto the woman's forehead. Marcus stared as the emotion and terror was drained out of the women's eyes. There was a few moments of silence, the templars watched as the woman stopped fighting. Alerik withdrew the brand and Marcus saw the woman's eyes grow cloudy, her body relaxed and she stopped fighting altogether. Marcus was staring in horror,_

 _'This isn't happening, this can't be happening!'_

 _At length, Alrik spoke, "My dear?"_

 _"Yes, Ser Alrik?" said the former mage, in a dead monotone, she was now a tranquil._

 _Everyone in the room seemed to have realized it._

 _One of the templars reached out and grabbed the tranquil by the chin, she did not resist as he forced her to face him._

 _"Sod it, I have been waiting for too long,"_

 _Without another word, crushed his lips down on hers._

 _"Eric, save some for the rest of us, will you?"_

 _Marcus shook his head, ignoring the knife inches from his neck. This could not be happening, where they going to take advantage of that girl? Was this why she was made Tranquil? Marcus turned around and ran, unable to deal with the horror, trying to leave behind the disturbing sounds that were coming from the dungeon._

* * *

Marcus trudged through the camp, soldiers and scouts nodded respectfully as he passed by, but he barely paid any attention to them. It had been four days since his return from the Hinterlands and the plan to meet the remaining Chantry clerics at Val Royeux was slowly taking effect. The Inquisition was receiving letters from various clerics saying that they were in the Orlesian capital, but they had also received word from their scouts, that the Templars were seen marching from across Southern Thedas and converging on the capital, whether it was good or bad news, no one was willing to guess. During, these four days, Marcus kept to himself most of the time, his rage had dulled and had now settled in his chest, always seething. He did not seek the company of anyone else, except for Solas, his calm attitude was a welcome change to the barely disguised awe that many people held on their faces. The elf was content to let him be and not push him to act more like a divine figure, it also helped that Marcus found his tales about the Fade fascinating, albeit a little disturbing. But Marcus also trained hard during his time in Haven, he spent most of his time in front of the practice dolls, with his daggers. Cassandra could also be seen there, whenever she was not with the War Council, Marcus doubted the women did anything else other than work.

The young Trevelyan was on his way to the Chantry, to meet Josephine, she had wanted to speak about something before he left, Marcus hoped she didn't want to talk about his family, he was certain that they would _not_ support the Inquisition, even if he was touched by the Maker himself. Marcus was little nervous about meeting Josephine, not that he found the women intimidating, but she was friends with Sister Leliana, who _was_ intimidating. Marcus could hardly believe that a Legend of the Fifth Blight was amongst them, he had heard many stories about the Warden and his companions from the Fereldan population in Kirkwall, and it left him in awe of the Warden and those who followed him. It must have been an incredible feat for a dalish elf to lead a king, a senior enchanter, a powerful apostate, a war golem, a Qunari and ferocious warrior from Ozammar. Marcus knew that he would never attain such heights, he was simply not important enough, it had been so since the day he was born.

' _Why didn't they call the Hero Of Ferelden?'_ Marcus thought, thinking about the War Council, ' _He would have closed the Breach by breakfast…. Yesterday,'_

"Oh, Maker, hear my cry,"

Marcus paused he recognized the voice at once, he had hardly had the chance to speak to Sister Leliana, since all of this began, but he could still recognize her. It was a sweet, melodic voice, Marcus could easily picture her captivating a tavern with a song or story. Marcus turned towards the Spymaster's tent and made his way towards the entrance, Leliana was on one knee, bent over and hands clasped together in fervent prayer. If Marcus didn't know better, she sounded afraid, uncertain, which was surprising.

"Is that what you want from us blood?"

Marcus couldn't help but listen, and it suddenly occurred to him that spying on the Inquisition's spymaster was not a good idea. He started to back away from the tent when Leliana turned and looked at him.

' _Oh shit, she is going to kill me,'_

"I am sorry," Marcus said, "I didn't mean to pry-"

"You speak for the Maker, no?"

"Uh, sorry?"

"You speak for the Maker, what does he think about all of this?"

Marcus glanced around him, and looked at Leliana, she was looking at him, her expression was a picture of calm but there was something about her eyes, they seemed to glow with intensity.

"Honestly, I don't actually know if I speak for the Maker, or not," Marcus said, "So if you are wondering what he thinks about our entire situation… I really can't tell you,"

Leliana sighed, she walked past Marcus standing just outside the tent, looking up at Haven's chantry.

"I used to think I was destined for something, just like you were destined,"

Leliana said, more to herself than Marcus. The young nobleman kept quiet, he had no idea why Leliana was telling him all of this,

"Leaving Theron and joining Justinia was a hard choice but I had made it and for a while I thought I had found my calling, helping people,"

"And now you felt like it has been shattered,"

Leliana turned and looked at Marcus with surprise. His words encouraged her to continue.

"Jusitnia gave _everything_ she had, even her life, and what is the Maker's answer to all of this? Nothing, what good is he, if he does not help the best of his servants!"

Marcus was a little surprised by her intensity, he had not expected such a strong display of emotion from the Sister, somehow, it made her more approachable.

"I am sorry about the Divine's loss," he said, sincerely, "I didn't know her very well, but its clear that she was important to you,"

Leliana didn't say anything and Marcus continued.

"Like you, I used to think I had a purpose," he said, "I thought that if I worked hard at it, pushed myself and perfected my craft, I would be fulfilling my purpose in life, until something happened that changed everything I knew,"

"Your time in Kirkwall's Circle?"

Marcus wasn't surprised to find out she knew something about his past, she _was_ a Spymaster, after all.

"Something to do with that," he said, "Look, I may not have known Divine Justina well, but from what I have heard, she was one of the bravest women in Thedas, possibly _the_ bravest of all,"

Marcus paused, Leliana did not say anything, and the noblemen continued.

"But what I do know about Divine Justinia is that she wanted peace, for all of us, she may not be here, but you can honor her memory by finishing what she started. Bring peace to Thedas with the Inquisition,"

For a long time, Leliana didn't say anything, she stood with her back to Marcus, staring up at Chantry. Just when Marcus was thinking about leaving the tent, to avoid any daggers, Leliana turned around and spoke.

"Thank you," she said, "It was most unexpected,"

"Well, I am full of surprises," Marcus said, with a grin of relief, "Just don't tell that to anyone,"

"Noted," Leliana said, making her way towards the table, "Now, if you don't mind, I have lots of work to do. Josephine said she wanted to talk to you about what's going to happen at Val Royeux,"

Marcus rolled his eyes at that,

"Great," he said, "I just have to walk up to a bunch scared-shitless clerics, and tell that I am an anomaly to everything they have been taught their entire lives. That is going to go _really_ well,"

"You may not convince them," Leliana agreed, "But that is not our objective, now is it?"

With that Leliana bent over the table and Marcus presumed the conversation closed. However, a small part of him couldn't resist asking one more question.

"Umm, Sister if you don't mind me asking something else,"

Leliana looked up from her work, "Yes, what is it?"

"Is the Hero of Ferelden as awesome and badass as everyone says he is?"

* * *

 _A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed!_


	5. Making A Choice

_A/N: Hello everyone! I am back, had finals and that was there were no updates, this past few weeks. Thanks a lot to all those who have liked, followed and reviewed this story. All thoughts are much appreciated. Now on with the show!_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 5 - Making A Choice  
_**

 _Marcus was stuck in time, he could not forget the horrors he had seen in the Harrowing Chamber even though it had been days since the incident. Whenever he closed his eyes to sleep, whenever he looked at a mage and a templar, all he could see was the cold look in Ser Alrik's eyes, the lecherous grin on the templar's face and the desperate look on the mage's face. Clyde had warned Marcus to stay silent, and Marcus complied, not out of fear for the apprentice but out of a sudden understanding that the Templars were not what they were supposed to be. Marcus no longer saw a group of noble knights fighting abominations to protect people, he saw a group of thugs using their power to bully a group of people who would find not find support anywhere else._

 _Beyond the shock, Marcus was ashamed that he did not do more to save that mage's life, her look of desperation and fear would haunt him for the rest of his days and the young noblemen wished he had made the choice to stand up to Ser Alirk, even if it meant suffering a severe beating at his hands. Driven by a sense of guilt, Marcus had searched the Circle's archives on the mage who had been turned Tranquil, her name was Lyla Stormwick, and she had been living in the Circle since her powers manifested at twelve years of age. Apparently, she had been questioning how the Templars had been managing the Circle, by taking away even the smallest freedoms. Such things did not warrant tranquility! Failing your Harrowing did! The records stated that Lyla passed her harrowing, so why was she made tranquil? Were other mages being treated like this? These questions seemed to lift a veil from Marcus' eyes, once he would looked at a Tranquil without a second glance, now he was aware of every Tranquil he encountered, where he would have only seen an assistant for research, he now saw a potential victim of Ser Alrik's hubris. Most of these victims, Marcus noticed were young, beautiful women and he was starting to see why so many of the female mages were afraid of Ser Alrik. All of this was too much for Marcus, he could not bring himself to believe that the Templars he was aspiring to join, were nothing more than cruel thugs who exploited their power and forced themselves on others. So he did the only thing he could, ignored the entire incident. Marcus choose to forget the whole affair with the mage, he choose to ignore the fact that Ser Alirk was taking advantage of his station and forcing himself on young women after branding them with a lyrium mark. Marcus wrote to his parents, but he also wrote frequently to Evelyn Trevelyan, his cousin in Ostwick's Circle and possibly his only friend in the world. He wrote about how great life in Kirkwall, mostly to convince himself his situation was not bad._

* * *

During the day, the Inquisition was busy, soldiers trained, agents scouted and chantry sisters moved amongst the sick and destitute to provide healing and spiritual counsel wherever they could. The Inquisition's numbers were small and their resources limited, but they did not turn anyone who might need refuge away. But when the sun went down, everyone made sure to stop their activities and take shelter in whatever cabin or tent were available, for without the warmth provided by a weak sun, nights in Haven became unbearably cold. Cold wind pierced through amour and clothes, sinking and settling into one's bones, incurable unless there was a fire burning. Haven's people squeezed into what little space was available, the Inquisition's leadership had rooms, but even they had to compromise. Cullen extended his accommodations to two of his captains, Cassandra gave hers to the female soldiers, while Leliana and Josephine shared a room. The only person who did not share a space in Haven was the Herald, he had an entire cabin to himself, a grand luxury considering their circumstances.

Cassandra found herself outside in the late hours of the night, they were to leave for Val Royeux tomorrow and the prospect of facing the Inquisition made her nervous. The Chantry feared this organization, whether those fears were validated or misplaced depended largely on how the Herald presented himself, and she feared that he would not play his part. The ground glistening with snow, the paths empty and the air silent save for the breeze blowing through the village. Cassandra was making her way towards her room when she passed by the cabin the Herald occupied, she stopped and stared at the wooden building, wondering for a moment if the Herald was aware of his privilege.

' _Of course, he isn't,'_ she thought, ' _He cares nothing for others,'_

Cassandra was about to turn her back and continue with her walk, when she noticed a light coming from the Herald's room, she turned around and glared at it. What was the man doing at this late hour? He should be resting and preparing for the journey to Val Royeux, he was going to be speaking in front of the Chantry, possibly the entire city!

The answer to Cassandra's question came sooner that she expected, the door opened and the Herald stepped out, he looked up and Cassandra found herself looking into the eyes of a very surprised, young man. His brown skin was the color of chocolate, his dark hair was straight and long enough to touch the nape his neck, though part of it was tied back into a ponytail. He had a square jaw, covered with a stubble of dark facial hair, his eyes were emerald green and studied the Seeker suspiciously. This was the first time Cassandra had the chance to look at his face properly, since their first encounter and she thought him quite handsome. Had they been introduced under better terms, she may have spared the Herald a smile or two, but right now she saw only saw him as a lazy, selfish and overly privileged ingrate. So, instead of smiling at him, she glared at him, angrily.

"What do you think you are doing?" she snapped, "You should be resting! We leave for Orlais at first light!"

"What I am doing is none of your damn business, Seeker!" Marcus snapped, "I am not some rogue Templar, and this is not the Circle!"

Cassandra studied Marcus closely and noticed a brown leather strap slung around his shoulder, her gaze followed the strap down to his side, where she saw the bag. Cassandra looked up at Marcus', the young man looked doubtful, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"You were planning on leaving?"

Marcus opened his mouth, when no response came, he closed it and looked away. Anger that had been boiling for weeks, came to the surface, Cassandra charged at Marcus, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

"Why you… _you little shit!"_

Marcus didn't resist, as the Seeker shoved him inside the cabin, Cassandra shoved him backwards and turned around to close the door. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and glared at Marcus.

"How _dare_ you!" she swung her fist hard, but Marcus dodged the blow, "People are desperate! They are destitute! The only thing giving them hope is _you_ , and you would just turn your back on all of them!"

Cassandra was heaving with anger, how could this man….

"I agreed to close the Breach!" Marcus snapped, ready to duck should the Seeker attack again. "But I never agreed to be your fucking puppet!"

"No one is making you a puppet!"

"YES, YOU ARE!" Marcus roared, "You are sending me to Val Royeux to legitimize YOUR organization, you would put me on a bloody chopping block if it furthered your own agenda,"

" _Agenda_!" Cassandra lashed out again, Marcus was able to dodge the attack, though, barely.

"I knew you were a selfish little shit!" Cassandra snapped, "Self-centered, arrogant, rude but now I know _you are an idiot!_ "

"You know nothing about me!" Marcus snapped.

"I know enough!" Cassandra snapped. "Since the day you woke up, you have done nothing but slouch around and go about your duties with an apathetic attitude, giving little heed to the needs of others,"

All the anger and frustration that she was feeling was pouring out, now, it was a wonder she had not tried to hit him more.

"I helped the Quartermaster acquire proper weapons for your men!" Marcus defended.

Cassandra laughed at that, "Oh fantastic!" she snapped, "You told scouts in the Hinterlands where they could find the iron and wood, you _truly_ are a benevolent person!"

"Leave me, _alone,_ Seeker!" Marcus snapped, "I never asked for any of this!"

"None of us asked for this!" Cassandra snapped, "None of us wanted the Breach, or the Divine dead! But unless we don't act, the world _will_ be consumed by demons, _and you would just walk away from all of that!_ "

"I wasn't walking away from anything!" Marcus defended.

Cassandra looked a little surprised at that. Marcus caught the change and attitude and immediately changed his posture, he now stood straight and folded his arms, as if waiting for an apology.

Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ' _Cassandra you are too brash, you must think before you act,'_

"But what was the-"

A loud knock on the door interrupted her, Marcus glanced at the door with a panicked look on his face.

"Herald, are you there?" Adan's gruff voice was unmistakable. "I saw the Seeker come in, should I leave?"

"Come in Adan!" Cassandra exclaimed, she had not thought about what people might think when she went inside the cabin. But if Adan walked away now, the rumor mill will be churning by morning. The door opened and the robed man came in with a bag.

"Just some merchandise that the Herald wanted," Cassandra frowned in suspicion.

"Let me see that," she demanded, "Don't!"

Seeing the mage's indecision, the Seeker moved quickly and snatched the bag from Adan's hand. "Thank you, you may leave,"

Adan nodded, though rather hesitantly. "Right," he said, "Have a good night, Herald, Seeker,"

Cassandra nodded, behind her Marcus snorted in annoyance, " _Herald,_ seriously I have a name,"

Cassandra ignored the comment and opened the bag. There were about four to five gleaming red orbs inside the bag, each small enough to be held in one hand. Cassandra recognized the weapons at once.

"These are Antivan fire bombs!" she exclaimed.

The weapons took a long time to make, Adan must have spent at least half a day making these, and given all his duties, time was not a luxury that the mage had. Cassandra turned to Marcus, who was folding his arms and looking away.

"You were going to leave the cabin to get _these?"_ Marcus shrugged, "Maybe,"

"What were you going to do with the fire bombs… _Herald_?"Cassandra asked.

Marcus coughed, "I was going to use them,"

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at that, "We are going to Val Royeux, tomorrow, what possible need would you have of this?"

"Uh, in case we are attacked?" Marcus snapped, "We are not exactly the most beloved group in all of Thedas,"

"We are going to Gwarven and taking ship from there," Cassandra snapped, "The route is clear and even if we are attacked, Antivan fire is not going to last long in this cold,"

Marcus looked away, "I am not going to be your puppet," was all he said.

Cassandra was not stupid, years spent detecting and hunting down demons and other beings of deception gave her incredible perception.

"You were going to use this…. in Val Royeux?" she whispered.

Marcus glanced at her but looked away quickly at her quelling glare, he shifted uncomfortably.

"You _were,_ weren't you?" she demanded.

Marcus merely shook his head, "I won't be your puppet,"

Cassandra suddenly felt very angry, she walked up to him and hit him hard. Marcus didn't resist the blow and force of the hit sent him sprawling to the ground.

"How _dare_ you!" she snapped, "You were going to jeopardize the lives of thousands of people over your own petty feelings?"

"I wasn't going to jeopardize anyone's life!" Marcus snapped, nursing his jaw. "I was going to use the bombs to create enough chaos in the city,"

"For what purpose!"

"To leave!" Marcus said, getting up to his feet, "Have I not made it clear that I don't want to be part of the bloody Inquisition? I was going to take advantage of the chaos and leave"

"And what about the fade rifts across Thedas?" Cassandra demanded, incredulously. "What about the Breach? What would you do about that?"

Marcus opened his mouth to say something but no words came and he closed it.

"How can you just walk away from all of this!" Cassandra demanded, beneath the anger, there was also desperation and confusion. How could this man be so selfish, after everything he had seen at Haven?

"Have you no sense of responsibility? No sense of honor? Or duty?"

Marcus didn't say anything, and merely looked away. Cassandra was feeling distraught, she needed to leave and she needed to leave _now._ The Seeker took a deep breath and glared at Marcus with the coldest look she could muster.

"You wanted these fire grenades because you thought there might be fade rifts on the journey to Val Royeux," she hissed. "There was no _other reason,_ do I make myself clear?"

Marcus didn't say a word, he continued to stare at a corner of the hut.

"Get some rest, Herald, you are going to need it for the journey,"

Cassandra shook her head in disgust, turned around and stormed out of the small shelter, making sure to close the door behind her with a loud slam. The cold air seemed to bite through her armor, but she ignored it, as she made her way to the Chantry.

 _'Maker please,'_ she begged, ' _Please do not tell me we lost Justinia because of this selfish man,'_

* * *

The sun rose, casting long rays of golden light on Ostwick's double walls, the city's Grand Bazaar, filled with tents, vendors and small shops were being set up with their wares in anticipation of the day's trade, for not even a Breach in the Veil could stop merchants from making their money. Moira watched the preparations unfold from the comfort of her bedroom. The opulent Trevelyan mansion, like that of many noble houses, was situated on top a hill, providing her with a grand view of the city, as it came to life.

Moira ran a hand over her dress sleeve; green silk with gold trimming was what she wanted to wear today. The Trevelyan matriarch was a morning person, she loved getting up to watch the sun rise because it helped her relax and start the day on a positive note. But today Moira was too fidgety to relax, too nervous to be calm because she was too worried about her youngest son. Has any parent had as much trouble as she did with Marcus? Had any mother had to worry about their child's future, the way she did about her youngest son? Everything Moira had tried backfired spectacularly on her, when Marcus was a child, she assumed that a distance from the boy would make him strong, instead, the lack of affection from both parents made him weak. She sent him to the Chantry to train as Templar, but he walked away from the Order and refused to come home, until Delilah had to drag him back, kicking and screaming. When that failed she tried to arrange a marriage for him, but noble families wanted wealthy heirs destined to inherit, not third sons with incomplete Templar training. Desperate, Moira hoped to thrust responsibility upon Marcus when he went to the Conclave, but that had not happened either.

Moira could still remember the day she had received the news of the Breach, she had been sad to hear about her brother's demise, but she had been _devastated_ to hear that her son was among the dead. While she had been grieving her son's death, she began to hear whispers, snippets of information coming from across the Waking Sea, that a man who looked suspiciously like Marcus, had survived, that Andraste herself had led him out of the Fade and bestowed upon him the ability to close the Fade rifts that had appeared throughout Thedas. Moira did not want to believe such rumors, she did not want to give herself false hope that her son might be alive.

"Moira?" The Trevelyan matriarch turned around, Morgan was standing at the doorway to the bedroom."Are you feeling well?" he asked,

Though graying at the temples, Morgan looked remarkably young of his age of fifty-nine. Every time Moria looked at her husband, she could clearly see Marcus in him, for father and son shared the same brown skin, dark hair and square jaw, though Morgan's eyes were hazel brown, while Marcus' had emerald green eyes.

"I am well, considering our circumstances," Moira said, "Are the children here?" she asked,

"They are,"

Moira nodded, "Then let us begin the meeting,"

Moira and Morgan did not have a bedroom; they had a private apartment within their mansion, which consisted of two rooms, a place where they slept and a small but stately room lined with plush chairs and a small table. Here, Moira could sit down and discuss the day's work with her husband, here she could speak her mind without restraint, she did not have to worry about decorum or protocol in this small and intimate room and for that reason she felt more at peace here, than she did in any other room in the Trevelyan mansion. Moira surveyed the arrangement of tables and chairs, a young man in his late twenties with blonde hair and porcelain skin, just like his mothers, sat next to a young woman with dark skin and short, curly hair. Moria smiled as her two children got to their feet and greeted her.

"Thomas, Delilah," she said, she then turned to the fifth person in the room.

Evelyn Trevelyan is a young mage with a lot of talent, capable with magic, diligent in her studies and devout in her religious beliefs. Evelyn had been destined for great things in the Circle, until the mages voted to be independent. Having no desire to fight in the war, Evelyn had turned to Moira for refuge. The Trevelyan matriarch had welcomed her sister's child with open arms, and Evelyn had been living with them since, spending her days in the Chantry, healing the sick and when necessary, fighting off any invaders who troubled Ostwick. Evelyn smiled and bowed her head in greeting, her green eyes sparkling in delight,

"Good morning to you, Aunty," she said.

Moira smiled and nodded back, "Good morning my child," she said, "And please sit, we need not be so formal amongst family,"

"Not formality, mother, but respect," Thomas said.

Delilah snorted in derision but did not say anything, Moira sat down opposite her children and niece, Morgan sat beside her and suddenly a grave air descended upon the room.

Moira took a deep breath, "What have you heard?" she asked,

"It is official," Thomas said, "I have received word from my contacts in Val Royeux that the Inquisition will be there, its possible they have already arrived at the city,"

"I have also reached out to my old friends," Deliah spoke, "Many of them say the same thing: A man with dark brown skin, black hair and green eyes has been touched by Andraste and blessed with the power to close the fade rifts,"

Moira noted how Delilah had managed to avoid mentioning her brother in any capacity, but she chose not to comment, she turned to Evelyn, who looked back with a steady gaze.

"What of the Mage's Collective?" Moria asked,

"One of the mages is located at Haven," Evelyn said, "But getting word from there has been rather difficult… they are so far away,"

Moria nodded, "I have also received reports similar to yours," she said, "Which can only mean one thing, Marcus is alive,"

"Or _someone_ who looks like Marcus," Thomas said, "Mother, it is entirely possible that the Inquisition dragged some poor soul, branded him with our brother's name and is now strong arming him into becoming the 'Herald of Andraste',"

"So you don't think Marcus could have survived the Conclave?"

"No, I don't," Thomas said, he did not even flinch, "Marcus never had any magical ability to speak of, so how did he survive where thousands died? And now suddenly he can interact with Veil? Ridiculous,"

"Lets assume what you say is true," Morgan said, "Why take Marcus' identity? There were thousands at the Conclave, many of those dead had more power and influence,"

"Because of our name," Thomas said, "The Trevelyan name has strong ties to the Chantry, the Left and Right Hand want to take advantage of that, we are also far away, so any connection to us made by this imposter cannot be refuted… at least not easily,"

Moira was not convinced, the Trevelyan name maybe prominent in Ostwick, but it did not have the same value in Orlais and it meant even less in Fereldan. If the Inquisition was trying to establish credibility, the name Marcus Trevelyan was not going to get them far.

' _So what other reason could there be?_ '

Morgan was clearly thinking the same thing, "Our name does not have the same weight across the Waking Sea, as it does here," he said, "The Inquisition has not chosen the right dead identity to build up their organization,"

"So in other words, Marcus has to be alive," Evelyn added, brightly.

"It just seems suspicious to me," Deliah said, "The Right and Left Hand of the Divine are mysteriously absent when Justinia and her successors die, and then days later they form this Inquisition, I have heard rumors, that they are taking advantage of the chaos in the Hinterlands and seizing territory within the area,"

"I cannot imagine Marcus being part of something like that," Evelyn added.

"True," added Thomas, "He would rather piss himself in a bar than do something worthwhile,"

Evelyn glared at her cousin but said nothing.

"Mother, I know you want to believe Marcus somehow survived," Deliah spoke, "But I simply don't think it's the case, if he did survive, he would have come home by now, not stay with these fanatics,"

Moira wasn't so sure, to her everlasting shame she had threatened her own son with exile and death, if anything happened to the Trevelyan delegation. Moira had no intention of harming her youngest child, but Moira wanted to entrust Marcus with responsibility, something he had resisted since Delilah brought him home, she hoped that a faux threat would reign him in. But if Marcus had survived the explosion, he would not have come home because of her threat.

Moira turned away and her eyes fell on a desk in the room, this had been the room where she did most of her work. Moira could clearly remember the day, when Marcus, only five years old, had walked into the room and without saying a word, moved to sit on her lap, where he simply continued to watch his mother write on parchment. Moira had not said a word when the boy moved to sit with her, but when the child went moments without saying anything, she asked him what he was doing. His response was something Moira would never forget,

' _I want to see how you do work, Mother because I want to be just like you when I grow up,'_

At the time, all Moira had wanted to do was take the little boy in her arms and hug him tightly. Instead, she called for the family caretaker and ordered her to take her son away, treating him as nothing more than a distraction. Moira had thought to make her children strong through discipline, distance and rigorous training, but she had not acted like a mother and that had driven a deep wedge in the family, fracturing them when it should have made them strong. Perhaps know was the time to think differently? Now was the time to start thinking as the woman who had wanted nothing more than to cuddle with her youngest child, rather than sign treaties.

If there is even the slightest chance that Marcus was alive, she had to take it, she had to reach out to him. Moira glanced at her husband, years together had allowed them to communicate without words, Morgan instantly knew what Moira was thinking and nodded in support.

"Mother," Thomas said, feeling that the silence had gone on enough, "Something has to be done, this person impersonating Marcus cannot be allowed to walk around soiling the Trevelyan name, they are ruining any goodwill we have with the Chantry,"

"Marcus is alive," Moira said, in a firm tone.

Both Deliah and Thomas stared aghast,

"Mother!"

"Don't _Mother_ me," Moira snapped, "Your brother survived the Qunari attack on Kirkwall, he survived when the mage-templar conflict tore that city apart, and I _know_ he has survived the Conclave,"

"That _thing_ running around with the Inquisition is not my brother!" he snapped.

Moria raised her eyebrow, and Thomas quickly bowed his head murmuring an apology.

"I will need someone to speak to him," Moria said, "Someone who knows Marcus well and represents the Trevelyan name,"

"Send me," Evelyn said,

"You?"

"I am a capable mage and I know Marcus well, I can take one look and tell if its really him or an imposter,"

Moira hesitated, part of her wanted to go to Haven to see for herself if her son was still alive, but she did not know how the Inquisition would receive her.

"Aunty, you have shown me a great kindness in giving me shelter," Evelyn said, "Let me do this for you,"

Moira nodded to Evelyn, "Then go," she said, "Reach out to Marcus,"

* * *

Val Royeux was a gem that rose from the ground, opulent and grand, the city practically reeked with arrogance and splendor, with its gold statues, countless fountains, silver plaques and clean stone floors. But right now the city was in a state of shock, for many of them had come to the city's courtyard expecting the Inquisition to be forceful and hostile, instead they watched in horror as the Templars attacked a Chantry Mother and declare the city unworthy of their protection. Right now the small team that made up the Inquisition stood at Val Royeux's courtyard, slightly confused by these turn of events.

"Well," Marcus said, in a falsely cheerful tone, "That was unexpected,"

"To say the least," said Varric, "At least it wasn't a complete waste,"

Marcus said, he gestured to a vendor owner standing in a corner, "We got a nice lady who is willing to provide us with fresh food!"

"This is…." Cassandra started, but stopped, clearly she was at a loss for words.

"So, what are we going to do now?" Varric asked.

Marcus looked around, all around him people were whispering about what had just happened. Clearly, the Inquisition was no longer on their minds.

"We should leave at once," Cassandra said, "We need to return to Haven and inform the War Council about what has happened,"

Marcus turned to Cassandra in shock, "You can't be serious!" he said, "We just came here! Lets at least rest and prepare for the journey back, its not like Haven is just a skip and a hop away!"

Cassandra turned on Marcus with a frown, creasing her features, Marcus noted that she would have been very pretty, if she didn't frown all the time, but he quickly shook the thought from his mind, Cassandra was nothing more than a deceitful crazy Seeker and he had to remember that at all times.

"Remember, _Herald,_ " she snapped, "You are the one who insisted I be in charge,"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you work us to the ground!" Marcus snapped, "What if a fade rift pops open, right now? We would be too exhausted to fight the bloody demons because _you_ insist on drill marching us all day!"

"Seeker, not to interfere or anything," Varric said, "But perhaps a little rest would do some good,"

"You don't start with me, _Varric_!"

"I am not starting anything! I just want to rest my legs!"

"Seeker," Solas interrupted, "I understand the need for urgency, but perhaps it would be better if we recuperated, before heading back to Haven?"

It was Solas' words, more than anyone else's that made Cassandra pause, she sighed.

"Where can we possibly find accommodation?" Cassandra asked, "I may have once been a hero in this city, but no tavern owner is going to give us lodging, not after what happened today,"

"We don't need take a tavern's lodging," Marcus said, "I know a place where we can rest,".

The rest of the team looked at him, expecting an answer.

"My family has an estate, just outside the city," Marcus explained, "We can go there,"

"Uh kid, didn't you say that your mother threatened to kill you?" Varric asked.

Marcus paused, even now those threatening words from his Mother still hurt him.

"Yes, what of it?"

"Uuuh, is it safe to go there?"

Marcus turned away and chose not to answer.

* * *

The road to Val Royeux was large, paved and filled with travelers, however, if one wandered off the paved highway, and onto the small dirt road, and traveled for half a day, they would eventually come to a pair of gates, with the crest of House Trevelyan. The gate led to Villa Havon, one of House Trevelyan's most prized assets and a summer home for the head family. Situated amidst lush green country, Havon consisted of a modest (by Orlaisan standards) mansion surrounded by a large vineyard. Marcus and his team had arrived at around mid day, when the sun was at is peak, and the natural light portrayed a magnificent summer home, with green vineyards running for miles and a blue mansion sparkling in the sun. Marcus had never been here as a boy, even though he wanted nothing more than to see the place. His siblings had been here on more than one occasion with their parents, and had always teased him with gushing tales about how beautiful the home was. Now, in his twenties, Marcus no longer cared about the beauty of this place, he only saw it as a temporary refuge, before returning to Haven. Any thought of running away had faded from his mind after what happened in the city. If the Templars weren't going to do anything about the Breach, then it fell to him to close it, him and perhaps the mages. Marcus shook his head, he could not believe that the Templars would do something like this, to think he could have easily become one of them…..

"Heads up kid, we got company,"

There were two people standing at the gates of the estate, one taller than the other, Marcus did not recognize them, but he had a good idea, as to who they were. As the group reached them, one of them spoke at once.

"Welcome, Sir Trevelyan, to Villa Havon, I am Seth,"

Seth was an elf, his pointy ears sticking out prominently against his bald head, which gleamed in the sunlight. Marcus noticed and grinned at Solas,

' _You have a kindred soul, my friend,'_ he thought.

Solas seemed to have read Marcus' mind though he choose to say nothing.

"I take it you are the one managing this place on behalf of Lady Trevelyan?" Cassandra said,

"I am, indeed, My lady," Seth explained, "When Ser Trevelyan sent word you were coming we were most surprised-"

Marcus rolled his eyes, feeling very annoyed, he was hot and dusty from the ride and he wanted nothing more than to rest.

"Its not Ser Trevelyan," he snapped, "And Seth, whatever surprise you had, trust me we don't care. We came all the way from Fereldan, so just open the gates, so that we go inside,"

Seth frowned slightly before nodding, "Very well, Ser,"

As Seth turned around, and pushed the gates open, Marcus leaned over to the person closest to him.

"Keep a sharp eye," he whispered,

"Any particular reason?" Cassandra said,

"I think someone might try to kill me,"

"Why am I not surprised to hear that?"

Despite the claim that he was tired from the long ride, Marcus didn't _actually_ feel tired, he was constantly on alert inside Havon and too nervous to let himself relax. The villa was a splendid residence, with marble floors, gleaming pillars and tall vaulted ceilings, statues of stallions, portraits of former leaders and plaques commemorating various family members who fought during the Fourth Blight were placed in corridors and various rooms. Seeing his family's heritage displayed in such an extravagant manner made Marcus uneasy, for it reminded him of just how distant he was from his own family. His parents had never brought him to the villa as a child, even though he asked several times. At the time, his parents told him that his studies would be disrupted, but Marcus now knew the real reason his parents never brought him to Villa Havon, it was a silent message.

' _We don't want you here, we don't want to see you, you are not part of his family,'_

Marcus was also reminded of his mother's threat, she was a tough woman and she didn't go back on her decisions. Marcus had no doubt she would act on her promise, it made him sad to realize that he meant so little to his own mother.

Being inside the cool, opulent hallways made Marcus uncomfortable, so he stayed outdoors, there were plenty of open spaces for him to train and he was now practicing on a makeshift scarecrow that he just made. Marcus swung his daggers viciously, trying to vent some of the frustration he felt at his situation, he had hoped to disappear in Val Royuex, but between the Templars being gits and Cassandra watching so closely, he had no choice but to stay here until the Breach was sealed. Marcus' future was now a dark cloudy path, and it made him angry, but beneath that anger was fear, would he survive closing the Breach? His last attempt had rendered him unconscious for three days and a second time might not leave him so lucky. Could they get the help of the mages? What will the templars do? Would the Inquisition decide that he was no longer valuable and dispose of him? Or worse throw him to the Chantry? Marcus yelled out in frustration and swung really hard. The scarecrow shattered from his blow, splintering the wooden edifice into small pieces. This made Marcus even angrier, "YOU STUPID PIECE OF CRAP!" he yelled, stomping on the wood,

"CAN'T TAKE A FUCKING HIT! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU-"

"I take it, you need a sparring partner," Marcus stopped stamping on the wood, and turned around.

Cassandra was standing there, hands placed on her hips, her ever present frown trying to pierce a hole through his skull.

" _You,"_ Marcus hissed,

"Yes, me," Cassandra replied, "Lets see how good you are against an opponent that fights back,"

"I don't need to prove any-"

"I wasn't asking," Cassandra snapped, she held up a practice sword.

"I found this in one of the store rooms," she explained, "Along with these,"

Cassandra held up a pair of wooden daggers and threw them at Marcus, who caught them. The Seeker then took a stance, holding up the practice sword.

"Well then, shall we?" Marcus grinned in response, without saying another word, he leapt at her.

Cassandra countered with her own move, and sent Marcus staggering back. The Herald took a few steps back and attacked again, this time Cassandra struck him with the pommel. Marcus staggered back, as pain erupted in his head.

"It seems that your bark is bigger than your bite," Cassandra said, if Marcus didn't know any better, she sounded smug, as if she was enjoying herself.

Her words only angered him more. With a loud roar, he charged again and swung the daggers viciously, lunging wildly after Cassandra who dodged each attack easily. A small voice in Marcus' mind told him to stay calm, but he didn't listen. He swung his left arm, Cassandra parried the wild attack and grabbed him. The Seeker turned around and elbowed him hard in the midsection. The force of the blow sent Marcus streaking back a few feet, but he stayed managed to stay upright and charged again. This time, Cassandra came forward and attacked, she swung her sword hard; Marcus was unable to block the blow and was hit hard on the shoulder. Cassandra ducked low and swiped Marcus from under his feet, causing the man to fall on his back. The Seeker backed away, as Marcus got to his knees.

"Dammit!" he yelled, hitting the ground with his fist.

Marcus got to his feet, with practice daggers in hand, but this time Cassandra attacked. The Seeker was fast and strong, forcing Marcus to back away in defense. He felt something hard hit him in the midsection and he fell down again.

"SHIT DAMMIT!" he yelled, getting to his feet, "EVERYTHING IS SO FUCKED UP!"

He began to swing his daggers wildly, he didn't care if he was in a fight or not, he only wanted to vent his frustration.

"I didn't do a thing to deserve this!" he exclaimed, "I didn't ask for the Conclave, I didn't ask for the Breach, I didn't ask to be the damned Herald, SO WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE!"

He locked weapons with Cassandra's sword and for a moment the two came eye to eye.

"Believe me," she hissed, "We all ask the same question,"

Marcus was so surprised by the statement that he didn't see the fist coming until it collided with his jaw. The attack sent him staggering back and it took all his effort not to fall to the ground. Marcus glared angrily at Cassandra, panting hard, he could not summon the energy to fight her, he was too exhausted and a little curious about what she had to say.

"You think you are the only one who has questioned their path in life?" she asked, she too was breathing hard, "You think you are the only one who has had everything they have ever known shattered and called into question? There have been plenty who have had to discover their purpose, all by themselves, and they did it without throwing a tantrum, they did it without undermining the safety of the entire world!"

Cassandra took a deep breath, "You are confused and hurt, I get that, but that doesn't give you the right to be rude and arrogant to everyone around you, sort _your_ problems, when the most pressing issue has been sorted first,"

Cassandra tossed the practice sword onto the ground and walked a few paces before turning around. "And we leave as soon as we have met this Red Jenney and the First Enchanter to the royal court,"

Marcus didn't respond, for some reason, only two words were stuck in his mind. ' _Hurt and confused,'_

Those words struck close, perhaps a little too close to how he felt, what if… Marcus shook his head, no, the Seeker was a traitorous fanatic who would lob off his head in an instant. He had to believe that she was crazy and not trustworthy, shaking his head in confusion, Marcus turned around and left the courtyard, leaving behind his practice daggers.

* * *

When Marcus walked into the Orelesian salon he did not care for the splendor that adorned the large, lavish room. The Herald simply wanted to leave for Haven at the first opportunity, it was odd, Marcus had been hoping for a chance to get away from the frozen wasteland but now that he was finally away, he couldn't wait to get back. Unfortunately, if the noblemen thought he was going to get away with a quick hasty meeting, he was wrong. The herald had barely announced his arrival, when people were looking his way and muttering inconspicuously, whether they were admiring him or condemning him, Marcus had no idea and he didn't care.

' _I need to know who Duke Basteinne and Vivenne are,'_ Marcus thought.

When a curious couple called out to him, Marcus went to meet them, the young man took a deep breath, trying to calm his restless mind. The couple that called out to him wore clothes in the fashion of Orlesian nobility, which were far too extravagant for his tastes.

"Greetings," Marcus said, cordially, "Fine party is it not?"

Marcus was never properly trained in court manners, his parents had not deemed it necessary, once they sent him to the Chantry, and though he did not know the protocol of Orlais' court, Marcus was determined be as polite as possible.

"A pleasure to see you my lord," said the nobleman,

"But it can be quite dull seeing the same faces in these parties," Marcus nodded, "Glad to be of service,"

The nobleman smiled, it was not a scheming malicious smile, but a mild curious one.

"Are you a guest of Madame Vivenne? Or Duke Bastienne?"

"Are you here on business?" spoke the noblewoman, in a light, gentle accent, "I have heard the most curious tales about you, I can't imagine any of them are true," Marcus couldn't help but grin at that statement, just because he was polite, didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun.

"Everything you heard," he said, "All true,"

"My!" said the lady, in the wonder, "The Inquisition is certainly a place for wild rumors,"

"The Inquisition! What a load of pigshit!" declared a thick Orlaisan voice,

Marcus took a deep breath, and looked around, a pompous man in a ridiculous suit was swaggering down the stairs, no doubt to pick a fight. Marcus had seen his type before, cocky and arrogant on the outside, but deeply insecure on the inside.

' _Be polite, this is not your salon, this is not your place to get angry,'_

Marcus knew he had to play this smart, the noblemen was trying to provoke him with words. The Orlaisan continued to speak but Marcus barely noticed him, he had just noticed a movement at the top of the stairs.

"If you were a man of honor," said the Orlaisan, "You would step outside and answer these charges,"

Marcus looked at the smug man, in front of him and realized that he could slice open the man's throat, before he could even blink. Before Marcus had decided how to handle this situation, the Orlaisan reached for his sword, Marcus backed away, to give himself room. Then he froze, a thin ice barrier preventing his body from moving.

"My dear Marquee," spoke a cultured voice, "How dare you speak that way in _my_ salon to _my_ guests,"

A tall ebony woman sauntered down the stairs, flaunting her curves in a flamboyant dress. Marcus took a few steps back, as she walked up to the Marquis, brandishing a mage's staff.

"M-Madam De Fer," stuttered the Marquis, "Forgive me, I mean no disrespect,"

Marcus smiled at that, ' _If you were a man of honor,'_ he thought, ' _You wouldn't be begging like a dog,'_

Madam De Fer turned to speak to Marcus, "My dear, you were the wounded party in this unfortunate affair," she spoke, her voice travelled to all ends of the quite salon.

"What would be his fate?" Marcus frowned for a brief moment, he wasn't aware of Orlais' customs, but in Ostwick, the host took responsibility for unruly behavior, they didn't dump these matters on another person, a clever way to wash her hands of man's fate, while still reminding the guests' who was in charge.

Marcus waved his hand dismissively, "He means nothing to me, do whatever you want with him,"

Madam De Fer turned back to the petrified Marquis.

"Many of the Cheveliars have already left for the Free Marches, to attend the tourney," said the mage, she snapped her fingers and the Marquis suddenly staggered to the floor, gasping for breath.

"I suggest you do the same,"

The Marquis didn't need telling twice, he got to his feet and scampered out of the salon, as fast he could.

The mage turned to Marcus with a smile on her face,

"I am delighted to meet you my dear," she said,

"I have so wanted to meet you," Marcus smiled, "Pleasure is all mine, Madam De Fer,"

"Please, do call me Vivenne,"

Madam Vivenne led Marcus away from the party towards a more private area, Marcus took note of the finery that bestowed the salon, thick plush carpets, royal purple drapings and large portraits framed in gold, no Circle Mage, was allowed to live in such luxury, Marcus knew this because his own cousin, Evelyn had been sent to the Circle when she was young, though she was allowed to write home, she could not enjoy the same privileges of nobility in the Circle. Marcus sighed, he missed Evelyn, she had been the one person in the Trevelyan family, he got along with. The two of them had been fast friends in Ostwick's Circle, even though Marcus was training to be templar. Ostwick's Knight Commander disapproved of the friendship and advised the Trevelyans to send him to Kirkwall.

"Now that we are alone, allow me to get right to it," Vivenne said,

Marcus leaned against the wall and waited for the explanation. "I am Madam Vivenne, First Enchanter to the Royal Court, and an esteemed member of the College of Royal Enchanters,"

' _Enchanter to the Royal Court,'_ Marcus thought, ' _That explains it,'_

"In this troubling time, it is imperative that order be restored to Thedas as soon as possible," Vivenne said, "And I believe that the Inquisition is the best chance of doing that, with the Chantry gone and the Templars abandoning their duties,"

Marcus immediately felt the hair on his back stand up, he narrowed his eyes stood straight, something about this felt odd.

"I had no idea that Empress Celene had any interest in the Inquisition, or other events," Marcus said, carefully.

"The Empress has been occupied with other matters," Vivenne said, "Halamshiral could be in a better state,"

' _Meaning you are making a power play with your Empress occupied with the civil war,'_

"What benefits do you bring to the Inquisition, Madam Vivenne?"

The mage paused, as if slightly affronted by the question, but answered,

"I bring the resources of the Circle," she said, "Its knowledge, contacts and personnel are at the Inquisition's disposal, need I say anything else?"

' _You could explain, why it took this long for you to contact the Inquisition,'_

The organization had been operating for months, trying to stop the war between mages and templars, being a member of Court, Vivenne would have known this. Why did she wait so long? Why wait till this moment to contact them? The answer was obvious to Marcus, and it made him very angry. Marcus smiled,

"Madam Vivenne," he said, "Let us all be honest, for just this moment, why do you really want to be part of the Inquisition?"

"I told you, my dear, to restore-"

"Bullshit,"

The word cut through Vivenne's cultured voice like blade running through soft flesh.

"You could have joined the Inquisition, months ago," Marcus explained, "But you choose to wait, until after the meeting with the Chantry. You wanted to wait and see if the Inquisition, a fledgling organization, could survive the dual onslaught of both the Chantry and the Templars, am I wrong?"

Vivenne didn't respond, her face was so still, she could have easily been wearing a mask.

"But the templars walked out," Marcus said, "No, they didn't just walk out, they practically spat on the Chantry and turned their backs on Orlais, and suddenly, the most trusted military force in all of Thedas, has abandoned this world to its fate,"

While Marcus was speaking, Vivenne had not so much as twitched, he was secretly impressed with her ability to stay so still.

"Of course, this can only benefit the Inquisition, in the long run, right?" Marcus continued, "The Chantry can no longer condemn us, with a Breach in the sky, and Orlais' throne locked in a civil war, the Inquisition has ample opportunity to expand its power and influence, unchecked and uninterrupted, and you want to be part of it to further your own cause, am I right?"

Vivenne chose not to say a word, and Marcus knew that he was right.

"Madam Vivenne, your aid is welcome," Marcus continued, "The Inquisition will appreciate whatever it is, you bring to Haven. So feel free to bring your magic, your skills, your knowledge and your connections to our cause,"

Marcus paused for dramatic effect. "But don't pull anything over me, do not try to fool me with double meanings and lies, because we both know that you are not doing this because of the Breach, you are doing this because you want to augment your own political power,"

Marcus stopped and stared at Vivenne.

"Your offer, is most gracious, Herald," Vivenne said, "I will certainly call upon Haven, at your earliest convenience,"

Marcus did not like this woman, at all, and vowed not to trust her.

"I will see you at Haven, my lady," Marcus said, with a rather bland smile, "And thank you, for the party, it was most…. eventful,"

Not caring if he was violating some sort of protocol, Marcus turned his back on the host and walked away. When he was out of sight, he sighed and rubbed his head, Vivenne was going to turn the Inquisition into a toxic and polluted environment, no better than Ostwick and its own politics. Still, Marcus was certain that Josephine would welcome Vivenne's support, Marcus took a deep breath, Solas, Varric and Cassandra were waiting outside the estate, for they had not been invited and they still needed to confront this 'Red Jenny',

' _I hope this Red Jenny, doesn't prove to be a pain in the ass,'_

* * *

" _Good evening, Ser Trevelyan,"_

 _Marcus could feel a shiver crawl down his spine, causing him to quiver slightly, but he turned around and addressed the one who spoke to him calmly._

 _"Good evening, Ser Alrik," he said in an even voice._

 _Ser Alrik's blue eyes were as cold as the stone corridor they were in and they bore hard into Marcus' own green eyes._

 _"I heard that your studies are going well," he said, in a deceptively soft, silky voice, "Ser Donovan thinks you will be ready for full Knighthood, in a year maybe even less,"_

 _Ser Donavan was Marcus' trainer, cold and detached as Ser Alrik himself, Marcus wondered if his teacher often partook in Ser Alrik's abuses of the tranquil mages._

 _"I had no idea Ser Donavan spoke of me so highly," Marcus said,_

 _"Oh, he thinks highly of you," Ser Alrik said, "He thinks of you as one of his best students, of course, he has not had many under his tutelage, so the bar isn't set particularly high,"_

 _Marcus resisted the urge to snort at the comment, after nearly four years in the Circle, Marcus had learnt to ignore cheap jabs._

 _"But I meant no insult, dear boy, there is no denying that you would have a great future, here in the Circle,"_

 _"I thank you for your assessment, ser," Marcus said,_

 _Four years ago he would have been joyful to hear those words, now he wasn't so sure. The noblemen could not forget that horrifying incident with the young mage, how Ser Alrik and his thugs had forced themselves on the young girl after taking away her mind. Try as he might, Marcus couldn't help but notice how the number of Tranquil in the circle had increased by a significant margin. He had been doing his best to pretend like nothing was out of the ordinary, but it was hard to ignore how Knight Commander Meredith passed one new rule after the other, each one harsher than the previous one. It was hard to ignore the growing number of blood mages operating in the city, it was hard to ignore the tense and uneasy atmosphere in the Gallows, it was hard to ignore the hostile looks he received from both mages and templars. The Circle had made him feel very uncomfortable, Marcus was starting to feel that he had made the wrong choice in choosing to stay silent._

" _Do you enjoy your time in the Circle, Ser Marcus?"_

 _"It's a lot of work, but I manage," "Training to be a Templar is no easy course," Ser Alrik agreed, "But if it were easy, then everyone would do it,"_

 _'Not everyone wants to be a rapist like you,' Marcus thought,_

 _"But being a Templar is not just about keeping mages in their place," continued the knight,_

 _"It is about having a keen understanding of your environment, you must know where the winds are blowing, if you catch my meaning,"_

 _"I am not sure I know what you mean, Ser Alrik," Marcus said, though he knew exactly what the Templar Knight was talking about._

 _Marcus may not have been educated on the game of politics, but he understood words with double meaning, when they were spoken._

 _"You are a good student, Ser Trevelyan," Alrik explained, "But even the best students need recommendations from the right people if they are to achieve their true potential, especially now in these dark times. With blood mages and abominations trying to tear down Kirkwall, the Knight Commander only wants the most loyal to occupy key positions in the Order,"_

 _Marcus did not say anything, trying his best to maintain a neutral expression on his face, the letter from Evelyn was curled up in his right hand. Ser Alrik felt that he had not made his point clear enough, for he walked right up to Marcus, his cold blue eyes boring into the younger man._

 _"One day, Trevelyan, you will have to make a choice," he hissed, "Make the right choice and you will find yourself alleviated to the highest ranks of the Templar Order, make the wrong one, and you could be branded a traitor to the Order and punished accordingly,"_

 _Marcus kept still as Ser Alrik studied him before turning around and walking away. Marcus watched Ser Alrik walk down the length of the corridor and disappear around the corner. The young Trevelyan took a deep breath before, he unfurled the letter that he had kept in his hand. The parchment had been crushed under his tight grip, but the small, neat writing was still legible._

 _ **Dear Cousin,** _

**_How have you been? In your last letter you expressed doubt about continuing your Templar training. I urge you to stay the course, the Circle is the best system for us mages, a safe place where we can learn to control our abilities, no other environment allows us to understand our craft so well and I am so happy to know you are a part of it. You will do all of us proud once you become Knight, think about it! Ser Marcus Trevelyan of the Kirkwall Templars and me, Evelyn Trevelyan, Grand Enchanter Of Ostwick's Circle, we could work on so many endeavors together. It would be a shame for you to give up, especially now that you are so close to becoming a knight of the order._**

 ** _In fact, this is the other reason I wrote this letter I am hoping to make further progress in my studies, a lot of apprentices prefer to do their research here, in Ostwick, but I have a few ideas about what I want to do and I really think Kirkwall is the best place to conduct my research. What do you think? Can you talk to the Knight-Commander or the Knight-Captain?_**

 ** _I eagerly await your reply,_**

 ** _Evelyn Trevelyan_**

 _Marcus read the letter, feeling dread flooding his nerves. Ser Alrik had spoken to him for the first time in four years,_ _after_ _he got this letter. It could not have been a coincidence, Marcus was certain that the Templars had read the letter because it came from the Ostwick Circle. Marcus now understood, that the 'choice' Ser Alrik was talking about was not going to come when he was knighted, it was going to come tonight when he would write his answer to Evelyn._


	6. What Happens Now?

_A/N: Hello everyone, sorry for the delay it took longer than I expected. Shout to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or following the story. Cheers!_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 6 - What Happens Now?_**

Cassandra and her team reached Haven three days after leaving Orlais, while Solas and Varric retreated to their spots to recuperate from the trip, Marcus and Cassandra made their way to the Chantry to meet with the Council. Marcus would have preferred to rest as well, but the Council had asked for him specifically and he did not think it a good idea to refuse. As Marcus and Cassandra made their way towards the Chantry, they began to speak about the recruits they found on their return journey.

"I still cannot believe that you allowed those two to join us,"

"You could have said no," Marcus defended, "You are in charge, after all,"

Cassandra looked away with a scowl, Marcus sighed exasperatedly, "Look, I asked Sera and the Iron Bull to join us because I thought you wouldn't object, you need capable people. The Bull's Chargers will be useful,"

"You know them?"

"Only through reputation," Marcus said, trudging through the thick snow, "They are supposed to be the best operating in and around Orlais,"

"But the Bull admitted to being a spy,"

Marcus paused, truth be told, he was a little nervous about Bull's blatant admission that he was ordered to pass on information about the Inquisition  
to the Ben-Hassarth.

"What if he is gathering information on us right now?" Cassandra challenged.

Marcus dismissed it with a shrug. The Inquisition can always kick the Bull's Chargers out if they wanted to, this was in their hands now, not his.

"If he is meant to be spying, then telling us he was spying was a bad way to start the mission," Marcus grinned, "Or maybe he is a little scared you will eat him alive, if he is caught"

Marcus had issued the threat impulsively, Bull's casual proposal of exchanging information had thrown the Herald of Andraste off and to regain footing in the conversation, Marcus had laid down terms that Bull only send what Leliana approved or Cassandra would dice him to pieces. He had expected Cassandra to be furious with his words, but she played her part of intimidating warrior exceptionally well.

"That Sera is a good shot," Cassandra admitted, "But I do not know what she brings in terms of resources, I have never heard of this...Red Jenny"

"I have heard the name in a few Free Marcher cities," Marcus said,

"What do they do?"

"In a nutshell? Piss of the nobility, they got my brother one time,"

"Do they have a leader?"

"Not that I know of,"

The two of them reached the doors of Haven's chantry and pushed it open, the warmth of the building was a welcome relief from the cold. Marcus closed the doors behind him and breathed a sigh of relief, he was starting to miss Ostwick's mild climate.

"Its good you have returned, we heard of your encounter," It seemed as if Josephine had been waiting for them for quiet some time, she had been leaning against the pillar but now made her way to the center of the Chantry.

"You heard?" Cassandra said in surprise,

Marcus sniggered at the Seeker's surprise, "Good with the sword," he said, "Slow with the mind,"

Cassandra sent him a quelling glare before turning back to Josephine.

"My agents in Val Royeux, sent word ahead, of course,"

Leliana and Cullen made their way forward, Casssandra and Marcus went up to them and the Inquisition's War council converged at the center of Haven's Chantry.

"It's a shame the templars have abandoned the capital as well as their senses," Cullen said.

"The templars abandoned their senses in a place called Kirkwall," Marcus said,

Cullen gave the nobleman a glare of unabashed dislike, but kept quiet. Marcus ignored the look and spoke to the Council,

" The Chantry destroyed their own credibility, when they called the Templars on us, ," Marcus spoke, " This is actually good news for you guys, whether you realize it or not"

"And that is a good thing, how?" asked Cassandra, incredulously.

"Yes, Herald," Cullen said, "Use your _divine_ wisdom and explain why this is good for us?"

"It gives the Inquisition more freedom to operate," Marcus explained, "People have lost faith in the Chantry and their ability to keep them safe, which means that when the Chantry does condemn you, people will not believe them like before. The Templars have turned their backs on the world and the Chantry, forcing people have turn to the only other organization willing to protect them: The Inquisition, which means you guys don't have to worry about the Chantry giving you a hard time because no one is going to listen to them. More people will come to Haven, which means Commander, you will have more recruits to build up that ragtag bunch of twerps you call an _army_ ,"

Cullen's eyes flashed in silent anger, but Josephine cut off any hostile response .

"The Herald has a point," said the diplomat, "We now have the freedom to approach either the mages or the templars,"

"Do we?" Cassandra said, sounding rather uncertain. "Lord Seeker Lucius is not the man I remember,"

"True, he has taken the templars somewhere," Leliana said, "But where? My reports have been…. very odd,"

"We must look into it," Cullen insisted, "I am sure not everyone in the order supports the Lord Seeker,"

Marcus snorted at that, "Templars are military, in military you obey your superior, no matter how you feel about orders. Or are you willing to tell me that everyone was hunky dory with Knight Commander Meredith's actions?"

Cullen turned on Marcus and glared at him, "Watch what you say about the Templars!" he snapped,

"Or what?" Marcus demanded, stepping close to Cullen and glaring right back at him. "Are you going to attack me, _Commander?_ "

"Enough!" Cassandra snapped, "We need to stay focused on the immediate task at hand,"

"Cassandra is right," Josephine said, "Perhaps the Herald could go to Redcliffe and meet with the mage rebellion?"

"You think the mages are more united?" Cullen said, taking his eyes off Marcus, "It could be ten times worse!"

"We still shouldn't discount them," Josephine, said, "The mages maybe worth the risk,"

Marcus looked around, some of the Chantry sisters were watching the proceedings quietly. The nobleman was starting to see why they rarely had meetings out in the open, to spare everyone else their petty arguments.

"The mages are powerful, Josephine," Cassandra said, "But more desperate than you realize,"

"Of course they are desperate," Marcus said, exasperatedly "It's the reason, Grand Enchanter Fiona approached us in the first place,"

No one knew what to say in response to this comment, Cullen however, decided to change the subject.

"Frankly I am not sure if we have enough influence to approach the Templars safely,"

"Then we need more agents in more places," Cassandra explained, "That is something you can help with… I think,"

Marcus laughed at the idea, "Listen, I get that circumstances are dire," he said, "But I am not exactly the recruiting type,"

"Shocking," muttered Cullen, brushing past Marcus.

"Then we must consider other options," Josephine said, she made a few steps, before stopping in front of Marcus. "Ser Trevelyan, I was hoping to speak with you about something,"

"Yes?" he said, sounding a little apprehensive.

"I was thinking of writing a letter to your mother, Lady Moira Trevelyan," she said, "The Trevelyans are the most esteemed house in Ostwick, their support would mean a lot for us,"

Marcus took a deep breath, "Before I left for the Conclave," he said, "My mother, said that if anything happened to the Trevelyan delegation, I would be branded a traitor to Ostwick and threatened with execution, so you can guess how requests for support will go,"

"Point taken, Ser Marcus," Josephine stated, though after a brief pause, "But thank you for your time,"

Marcus nodded and gave a polite smile, as Josephine left, Leliana approached him.

"There is one other matter," she said,

Marcus sighed, "There is _always_ another matter," he said, "Very well let's hear it,"

"Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Fereldan vanished,"

Marcus nodded, "Grey Wardens aren't exactly known for socializing," he said, "It could be nothing," He remembered the Grey Wardens in Ansburg, they rarely ventured into the cities, unless it was to recruit some lowlife in prison.

Leliana shook her head, "The Grey Wardens are reclusive," she agreed, "But they do not cut themselves off from the rest of the world, as they have done now. I contacted the Wardens in Orlais, to see if they had any clue as to what happened to their Fereldan comrades...but they also disappeared, ordinarily, I wouldn't consider the possibility of them being involved in the Divine's death, but the timing is odd,"

"You haven't approached the others with this?" Marcus asked,

"They have dismissed my suspicions," said Leliana, "But I cannot ignore it,"

Marcus nodded again, the idea that Grey Wardens would be involved with anything that could jeopardize the world was ridiculous, but this was _Leliana_ with the suspicions, out of everyone in Haven, she knew the Grey Wardens best and if she suspected something was off….

"What do you need to me do?"

"Scouts have reported a Grey Warden in the Hinterlands," Leliana said, there was a hint of relief in her voice. "He goes by the name of Blackwall, if you could find him, perhaps he can put my mind at ease,"

"And if he cannot?"

"Then there may be more going on than we thought,"

Marcus sighed, "Great, _great,"_

* * *

Marcus took a deep breath and pulled the bowstring back, taking aim at the target a few meters away. Taking aim, he released the arrow, the projectile flew forward in one smooth arc and hit the target with a loud 'thwak', missing the bull's eye by an inch. Marcus smiled, not bad considering the distance between himself and the practice dummy. With a smug grin, he turned to look at Sera, the Inquisition's most recent recruit gave him despondent look.

"Really? That's it?" Sera asked,

"Not good enough?"

"Well, no, I was expecting a lot more, yeah, thought you going glowy would have made you better or something,"

"Oh?" said Marcus, with an amused grin, "Think you can do better?"

" _Pffffffft,_ I could hit that thing with my eyes closed,"

Marcus placed the longbow at his feet and folded his arms, putting up a silent challenge.

"Do it," he said, "I dare you,"

Sera made her way forward, she stood in the spot that Marcus occupied only a few seconds ago. The blonde elf looked away from her target and directly at Marcus, with a big grin on her face while still facing the Herald, she closed her eyes. Marcus watched stunned, as she loaded an arrow, raised the bow and fired in one smooth motion. The Herald watched the arrow with interest, the projectile wavered slightly, but when it hit the target, the arrow hit the bull's eye hard. Marcus raised his eyebrows both surprised and impressed with the level of accuracy.

"Yeaah! Wooo! What did I tell you, _milord!_ I hit that with my eyes closed,"

"That was impressive!" Marcus said with a big grin, "I have never seen anyone shoot like that, well, not with that kind of accuracy,"

"I know right! And you thought I couldn't do it…." Sera broke down into cackles of delight.

' _I could definitely use her in the-"_

"My lord Herald?" Marcus turned around, a scout bowed in respect and spoke again, "Lady Cassandra has sent word, we are to prepare to leave for the Hinterlands today,"

"Today!" Marcus exclaimed, angrily, "We only got back, from Val Royeux this morning!" ]

The scout bowed again, "My apologies Herald, I only pass the messages on,"

"Where is the Seeker?" he asked, in a tone of forced calm,

"I-in the Chantry,"

Marcus growled and walked past the scout, determined to talk with Cassandra.

The Herald stormed his way past everyone, ' _How dare she work us into the ground, not everyone wants to be a member of the Inquisition!'_

Marcus stormed into the Chantry, "Have you seen Seeker Pentaghast?" he demanded, of a group of Chantry Sisters.

The two sisters looked bewildered but pointed to a small door off to the side. Marcus made his way to the door and wrenched it open.

The door led to a small room dimly lit by a two brackets on both sides of the wall, Marcus could make out a stone statue, presumably of Andraste, Cassandra was kneeling before the statue, but she stood up as Marcus barged. The Herald glared at her, not noticing that she was a little less guarded than usual, nor that she had her trademark frown.

"What do you want, Herald?" she asked.

Had Marcus been paying attention, he would have realized that Cassandra's tone lacked its usual hardness.

"I want a lot of things," Marcus snapped, "For one, you can stop treating me like your work animal!"

"What are you talking about?"

" _What am I talking about!"_ he snapped, "I am talking about the way you lead us! You work us like fucking horses!"

"The world is falling apart!"

The Seeker snapped angrily, the brackets, with its fire burning low cast a long shadow over the Seeker's features, hiding some of her features, but also enhancing any emotion she displayed, if Marcus had been a bit more considerate, he would have noticed sadness and uncertainty on the Seeker's face.

"I get that we need to close the Breach," Marcus snapped, "But it doesn't change the fact that you are a shit leader who works us to the bone!"

Marcus stood still, expecting the Seeker to lash out, only she didn't.

"I know," Marcus stood still, in shock, it was not what she said, but how she said it, her voice was shaking, Cassandra' voice _never_ shook.

"That was why I wanted _you_ to lead in the first place," she snapped, the angry look on her face, only enhanced by the dim lighting in the room. "Mother Giselle had wanted to speak with _you_ , not with me, which was why you should have lead,"

Marcus was suddenly still, any righteous anger he might have had now faded, at the look on Cassandra's face.

"But you didn't! You refused to take responsibility!"

Cassandra's voice was shaking now, and it suddenly occurred to Marcus, that he had walked in on her during a private moment.

"The Conclave was destroyed, killing Divine Justinia, our last hope for peace,"

Cassandra's eyes were practically shining, Marcus was unsure of what to do.

"Then there was the Breach, I watched for days, as it spat on demons and other hideous monsters, with Justinia gone, everyone turned to the Inquisition for help, but I had no answers to give… I didn't know what to do,"

Marcus was starting to feel very foolish about the way he barged in on Cassandra.

"Then you came, and I thought that you were sent by the Maker himself, I thought if anyone could solve this, if anyone should lead the effort… it was you. BUT YOU REFUSED!"

Before Marcus could blink, Cassandra lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the wall.

"I have the weight of the world on my shoulders!" she said.

Marcus was unable to move or say anything, he could only stare at Cassandra, her eyes brimming with tears, her face racked with emotion.

"I have turned my back on everything I know, the Chantry, the Seekers, all of it! History will brand me as a traitor and a madwoman, and they may be right. But I needed to do this! I had to do all I can, because YOU ARE TOO SELFLISH TO CARE!"

Cassandra stopped after that, taking deep breaths. Marcus couldn't say anything, for deep down he knew what Cassandra said was true.

"You are supposed to be Herald of Andraste!" she said, in there was despair in her voice. "You are supposed to be sent by the Maker to help us, and I have seen _anything_ but that! I have seen nothing but selfishness and petty thinking from you and it makes me wonder, why the Maker has done this to us,"

There was a knock on the door, Marcus turned around, an Inquisition scout was standing at the doorway, the man's eyes shifted between Marcus and Cassandra, before he bowed to Cassandra. "Apologies, my lady," he said, "But we have received a message from some of the soldiers stationed at the Hinterlands," Cassandra glared at Marcus, before she released him and stormed out of the room, without another word.

* * *

" _I have to say Marcus, I am a little disappointed in you,"_

 _The noblemen choose not to say anything, he tightened his grip on his daggers and waited for the inevitable attack. Ser Alrik and a group of loyal cronies were standing in front of him, blocking his exit to the dungeon. Marcus was trapped and with nowhere to go, he could feel his heartbeat rising._

 _"I-I do not know what you mean Ser Alrik," he said in an uneven voice,_

 _"You know precisely what I mean," snapped Ser Alrik,_

 _"You are guilty of conduct that is not befitting a Templar of Krikwall,"_

 _"I haven't done anything of that sort!"_

 _"You wrote to your cousin telling her not to come to Krikwall's Circle, wrote a few choice words might I add,"_

 _"You are not supposed to read my letters!" he snapped,_

 _"But we had a very good reason to," Ser Alrik sneered, "Denying us fresh meat is conduct unbecoming of a Templar,"_

 _Marcus' nostrils flared in anger, his cousin was not fresh meat! To think that his parents wanted him to become part of something like this._

 _"You are to come with us and answer these charges," Marcus growled and held up his daggers._

 _"I am not going anywhere with you," he hissed._

 _"Then you will be dragged to your judgement,"_

 _A templar came forward, running at him with a longsword. Marcus took the initiative and struck first, years of training had forged him into a skilled warrior, albeit, an inexperienced one. Marcus took down the knight and kicked him hard in the head. He held up his daggers with a huge grin, adrenaline surged through him._

 _"Anyone else want to take their chances?"_

 _Ser Alrik looked furious, he opened his mouth to issue a command, when the sound of a loud bell clanging reached their ears. For a moment, everyone paused listening to the bell, all of them knew what that meant and what it implied._

 _"It's a call to arms," whispered one of the templars._

 _"The Knight-Commander is rallying the templars, what do we do, Ser Alrik?"_

 _"We go to the courtyard," Ser Alrik said, "We will deal with this one later,"_

 _The group turned around and disappeared through the exit, on impulse Marcus started to follow them and then stopped. 'The call-to-arms' bell is for Templar Knights,' Marcus thought, 'I am not a Templar Knight,' He had not taken his vows and he had not been given his philter of lyrium and if Ser Alrik had his way, he wasn't going to get that chance. The Templar had intercepted his letter, which means Evelyn would not know what is happening, which means that she would be well on her way to Kirkwall, unaware of the treatment that awaited her._

 _"I need to warn her," he thought aloud, "I need to leave the city,"_

 _Marcus took a deep breath, such a decision meant treason but he no longer wanted to be a templar, he didn't want anything to do with the Order. He was tired of living like a prisoner, terrified if he spoke out against Alrik, tired of ignoring the atrocities happening right in front of him, tired of keeping quiet when he should spoken out. Marcus was sick of the Templars and their corrupted ways, he was tired of ignoring his own instincts for the sake of a family he had not seen in more than four years. Marcus was leaving Kirkwall, he was leaving the Templar Order, he was going to Ostwick to warn his cousin about the Kirkwall's Circle and the Templars that guarded it._


	7. Impending Trouble

A/N: Hello everyone, sorry for the delay!

* * *

 ** _Chapter 7 - Impending Trouble_**

Marcus Trevelyan was sitting outside the perimeter of the Inquisition's camp at Lake Luthias, comfortably seated on a rock that overlooked the land below, he had a whetstone in his hand which he was using to sharpen his blades. Marcus always found the act of sharpening his daggers comforting, for it was a rhythmic motion that allowed his mind to wander, while his hands worked. Right now Marcus was thinking about Cassandra, what she said at Haven had shaken him. The young man had not expected the Seeker to be so emotional, truth be told, he was not even sure if the woman even felt anything beyond anger. But Cassandra did have emotions, she _did_ feel, and she felt sadness and despair over everything that happened. Marcus had looked deep into her eyes and saw a whirlwind, and for some reason, the look on her face had a powerful effect on him.

' _Dammit, Marcus get your shit together, you are not responsible for this mess! You are not obligated to fix it!'_

Marcus ran a gloved hand over his face with a sigh, he honestly didn't know if he was the Herald, he didn't _feel_ like he had been sent by the Maker, he didn't feel holy, he didn't feel righteous, he just felt like a man caught in a situation he didn't want to be in. But Cassandra thought he was chosen by a divine power, at first, Marcus thought she was crazy, that she was a religious fanatic just like half the lunatics in his family. Now he realized that she _needed_ to believe, otherwise she would just crumble beneath the weight of everything that happened. Marcus had read stories of great heroes who defeated monstrous villains and saved kingdoms, he had loved those stories as a boy, but he never imagined himself being one of those heroes, nor could he ever be a leader. Bad things tended to happen to those who trusted his thinking.

Marcus did not think himself special, just someone trying to make sense of this chaotic world, someone who was at the wrong place, at the wrong time. But that was not what a lot of people believed, some believed that he was some Divine figure, sent by the Maker himself, but Marcus had no answers, he had _no idea_ what was going on. ' _My dear little boy, you are a wyvern, born to a family of dragons, keep your head down, work hard and you may still yet make us proud,'_ Those had been his mother's words, Marcus had only been six years old at that time and he had taken those words to heart, and had a hard time dislodging them from his conscience. Marcus ran a hand through his hair in frustration, why did his parents have to say such things to him? Why couldn't they prepare him for the world and not some backseat role within the family? Marcus rubbed his eyebrow, his head was starting to ache, he had no idea what to do, he didn't want to be a part of this Inquisition, but he couldn't just walk away, not with the Breach in the sky.

"Herald,"

Marcus jumped in surprise, and turned around, Cassandra was standing some distance away.

"The unit is ready," she said, there was a certain frostiness to her tone, "We are going to attack the templar base and then move on to the mages camp, with luck, we can defeat both groups and restore order to this area,"

She turned to walk away, "Um, Seeker," Marcus said,

"What?"

"I was thinking of going straight to Redcliffe, to negotiate with the mages,"

"You can't go anywhere with the mages and templars blocking your path," Cassandra snapped,

"Uh, right,"

* * *

Gordan propped his staff against the stone and settled on the ground, a fresh green apple in his hand. Food that he had taken off a refugee, the sniveling man refused to give him a thing, so he set him on fire and took everything the pathetic villager owned. The cave he was in was dark, lit by several camp fires, ordinarily so many fires in a small space would have raised the temperature in the cave, but the cold barrier erected at the entrance prevented the air from getting too hot. It also prevented the templars from coming in.

' _Templars,'_

It had taken leaving the Fereldan Circle to realize just how petty and broken those so called knights really were, without the Circle to sanction their atrocious acts, they were no better than bandits, doing anything to retain some illusion of what they had. Gordan had not realized just how liberating his magic could be, he could still remember the first time he walked out of the tower onto Calenhad Lake, the breeze caressed his skin and the view of the large lake was awe inspiring, but what he remembered most was the sense of _freedom,_ no Templars watching him, no stone walls cornering him, no fear of being assaulted by Templars, for the first time since he was a boy, he had been _free._

From that day on, Gordan vowed to be his own man, no matter what, when Grand Enchanter Fiona accepted the 'gracious' offer of King Alistair Therin, he had refused. Gordan was no fool, the mages would have to give up their freedom for shelter and Gordan would never trade his freedom, not even for a luxury four-poster bed, why was it a bad thing for mages to be free? He would do anything to keep his freedom, even if it meant burning down half the Hinterlands.

"Gordan, I think there's someone fighting," spoke a mage, whose name he didn't know.

Gordan didn't reply at first, he bit into the apple, savoring the juice from the fruit before he replied.

"Its just those templars again, the guys outside will take care of it,"

This wasn't the first time templars had come knocking on their door, but they had never gotten passed their barrier and the mage didn't pay attention to, the sounds of battle filtering through the barrier.

"Eh, Gordan, we better do something,"

The mage looked up at the barrier, alarmed. Their comrades had been beaten, he could only see the Inquisition soldiers, they were led by some pompous mage (probably Orlesian), a Seeker with a large eye on her armor, a brown skinned man with two daggers and… _was that a Qunari?_ A large sound followed by a large rush of wind into cave made the apostate stagger. The barrier had been taken down, Gordan got to his feet and watched as Inquisition soldiers stormed through the cave. If he was going to die, he was going to die a free man.

* * *

Marcus looked around with a grim face, the battle had been short and brutal, the remaining mages had been cornered and with nowhere to go, they had not lasted long under the many swords and arrows of the Inquisition.

"With the mages and Templars gone, the refugees would have an easier time at the Crossroads," said Cassandra.

Marcus only nodded in response, he had no idea how to interact with the Seeker not after her frosty attitude at the camp, fortunately, Bull approached him, his tall, hulking form casting a long shadow over him.

"Ah! Screaming midgets, turncoat mages, this was great!"

Marcus looked up to see the Bull grinning from ear to ear, "So… you enjoy this kind of fight?" he asked.

"Enjoy? I love it!" Bull said, "Back on Sehron, most of our enemies ambushed you, they snuck up on you and tried to take you by surprise. It's refreshing to face an opponent you can actually _see_ coming,"

Marcus nodded and folded his arms, he wasn't quiet sure how to interact with the Qunari, he could still remember the horned giants who nearly destroyed Kirkwall, although Bull was nothing like those stoic warriors, the image still remained.

The Inquisition's soldiers were moving around cleaning up the battlefield, looting bodies and finding resources where they can.

"With the mages and templars gone," Marcus mused, "There won't be too many people to oppose the Inquisition,"

"Hmm… I wouldn't be too sure about that, trouble has a knack for showing up in many different ways,"

But Marcus ignored the Bull, "Which means the way is clear to go to Redcliffe," he declared, "The sooner we talk to the mages at Redcliffe, the better!"

Marcus turned around, "Scouts! Agents! I need to see you!"

Marcus stood still, looking a little uncertain, but jumped in surprise when a dozen agents responded to his call, all of them looked at him with rapt attention and it made Marcus feel uneasy. With a slight glance at Bull, who only shot him a huge grin, Marcus took a deep breath.

"Listen I need some of you to go to Redcliffe, spread the word that the Inquisition is coming to speak with the mages there,"

The scouts nodded and dispersed at once, Marcus watched in surprise, no one questioned him, no one challenged him, no one told him to bugger off. He blinked up at Bull.

"Did I just give my first order?"

Bull shrugged, "It looks like it,"

* * *

"Careful, my dear, this rift is not like the rest,"

Marcus rolled his eyes at the obvious, "Really? What could have _possibly_ given that away, I wonder,"

The fade rift before them was perched right in front of the gates of Redcliffe, but its peculiar location was not the reason for Vivenne's warning, glyphs were visible at certain points on the ground, some gold, others green. Marcus was not sure what to make of it and it made him nervous.

"We need to find out what those glyphs do," he said, "Vivenne can-"

"Who cares about the glyphs!" Cassandra snapped, she stepped forward, unbuckling her sword and shield."Demons can pour out of that rift at any moment!"

"That doesn't mean we should go charging in!" Marcus protested.

The Seeker glared at Marcus before moving her forward with her weapons.

Bull snorted in amusement, "I like her,"

Marcus sighed in resignation and pulled out his own daggers, and readied for battle. The fade rift suddenly sprung to life, as if sensing danger, Marcus watched apprehensively as Cassandra ran directly to the ethereal green substance as it slowly took shape.

"Seeker! Watch out!"

The ethereal substance disappeared and a tall demon with sharp, spindly claws towered above the Seeker. Marcus felt his stomach tighten from nerves, he _hated_ those things. Mineve had called them 'terrors' because of the screams that left people dazed, Marcus did not tell her that her choice of name was far more appropriate than she realized. Cassandra rushed forward to strike the demon before it could disappear underground. She stepped onto the green glyph, and Marcus saw her movement slow down considerably, he looked on in alarm as the demon stood over her and raised its claws to strike. Cassandra was raising her shield, but the movement was too slow, as if something was weighing her down. The demon was going to cleave her in half with a single blow. Marcus acted on instinct, and flung his dagger at the demon's back.

For one heart stopping movement, Marcus could only watch as the dagger sailed through the air, while the demon brought its claws down on Cassandra. Marcus could hear Bull call out a warning but for who he was not certain, his attention was only on the Seeker. The dagger hit the demon in the middle of its back. The terror threw its head back and screamed in pain. Cassandra stepped out of the glyph and moved to strike her opponent down. But Marcus didn't see the killing blow, one moment he was looking at the Seeker fighting the demon, the next he was seeing nothing but blue sky. Pain exploded at the back of his head and he stared up dazed. It took him a moment to recognize that another terror was standing over him. It must have come from beneath the ground.

' _I hate these fucking things,'_ thought Marcus slightly dazed.

The nobleman cringed and looked around, the demon had raised its head to the sky. The Herald tried to get to his feet, only to hear a loud scream grating on his already aching head. The Herald could only place his arms over his head and wait for the horrible moment when he would be stunned and dazed. Suddenly, the screaming stopped, Marcus looked up. The terror was lying still on the ground with an Inquisition long sword stuck deep in its chest. Amazed, Marcus looked at where he last saw the Seeker. Cassandra was looking back at him with her shield in one hand and her chest heaving as she breathed hard. Marcus walked over to the demon and looked at the sword, which had embedded itself in the terror's spindly chest. Marcus grabbed the weapon with both hands, and tugged it out of the corpse. He took a deep breath and walked over to Cassandra, the Seeker had an odd expression on her face, somewhere between neutral and guarded, as if she did not know what to expect. Marcus nodded and held the sword out to her.

"Nice shot," he said, "Thanks for the save,"

Cassandra nodded, "You as well,"

The sounds of battle were still going on, Iron Bull and Vivenne had kept the remaining shades and wraiths occupied, while the Seeker and Herald dealt with the terror demons.

"The field is clear of demons!" Iron Bull called out.

Marcus acted quickly and held up his hand to close the rift, before more demons could come. Marcus had closed several fade rifts throughout the Hinterlands and had become accustomed to finding the vital thread that held the fade rift together and pulling it, to close the door to the Fade. The glyphs on the ground faded away leaving nothing but clear air, green grass and thick stone gates in front of them. Marcus winced, the back of his head still felt tender.

"All right, the demon crap was bad enough!" Bull exclaimed. "But what were those things on the ground? They seemed to control the air around them,"

Marcus grinned at the warrior, "You scared, Bull?"

"You bet I was,"

"Time, my dear, they were controlling time," Vivienne said, "Notice how Cassandra moved far too slowly when she stepped on that glyph? Stepping on others made us move faster. Glyphs do not have such power,"

"This is an unexpected development," Cassandra said, in a stern voice, "But the rift is closed, that is what matters. The Herald wanted to speak with the mages, he should do it quickly,"

But Marcus wasn't so sure if it was a good idea to march into Redcliffe considering what they had just seen, he was about to express this thought when an Inquisition scout ran up to them.

"Lady Cassandra," he said, gasping for breath, "The way to Redcliffe is clear, but you should know, no one was expecting us,"

"What?" Cassandra snapped "That can't be, Grand Enchanter Fiona asked us to come here!"

"I am not sure what's going on milady, just that none of the mages were expecting us to be here,"

The scout stood still, waiting for further orders. Marcus sighed, it seemed that the world was content to pile one problem after the other on their heads.

"There's no way I am going to waltz into Redcliffe after hearing that," he said.

"Agreed, its too suspicious," said Cassandra,

"I need to know what I am dealing with," Marcus said, "I need to know what the hell is going on in there, which means, I need to slip into the village,"

"Are you insane!" Cassandra snapped, "That's too dangerous!"

"Grand Enchanter Fiona wanted us to come here," Marcus insisted, "There is no way she wouldn't have anticipated our coming, unless something is really wrong, I need to know what it is,"

Cassandra nodded, "What do you intend on doing?"

"I need to sneak into Redcliffe as a refugee and scout the place," Marcus said, "Which means I need villager's clothes, can you fetch me some?" he said, turning to the scout, as he asked the question. The scout nodded and ran off,

"Bull have a word with those guards," Marcus said, "They saw me close the rift, they will know I am the Herald, but word can't reach Redcliffe castle until I know what is going on,"

"How do you know people will not recognize you?" Cassandra said, "Description of your looks has spread around,"

"Really? I hope it's a flattering one,"

Cassandra let out a noise between a sigh and growl, Marcus quickly shook his head,

"Mages from circles all over the world are here," he said, "that includes the Free Marches. They are not going to think twice about me, provided I am discreet,"

"Its still too dangerous," Cassandra insisted, "You cannot go in by yourself,"

"If you can have scouts in place-"

"You need more than agents, I am coming with you,"

Marcus paused in surprise, didn't the Seeker hate him?

"Uh…"

"What?"

"I thought that…."

Cassandra studied him, she seemed to have read his mind.

"You are the only one with power over the fade rifts," she explained, "Your safety is paramount… regardless of personal feelings,"

"Umm… right, thanks." he said, "But uh, aren't you the Hero of Orlais? People might recognize you,"

Cassandra shook her head, "I have not been to this part of Thedas often," Cassandra said, "And besides, that title means little in Fereldan, I doubt many of them would _know_ Orlais had a hero,"

"True," Vivenne jumped in, "Fereldans love to hold onto their grudges,"

"Madam Vivenne, you should stay back, for now," Marcus said, "The mages will not have any problems recognizing you and that will draw attention, the same for Bull,"

Marcus had just completed these words, when Iron Bull himself approached him,

"I have had a word with the guards, they have agreed to keep quiet for now,"

The Bull towered above the others, the Herald had still not gotten over his immense size.

"Yes," he said, "You would definitely draw just as much attention as Vivenne if you went into Redcliffe,"

"So what do you want us to do?" he asked.

"Go back to the camp….. I will send word when I need you,"

* * *

The Gul's Tarven was a humble inn that provided clean rooms, good food and strong ale to the people of Redcliffe village. The tavern was packed to the brim, mages in robes and commoners in drab clothes occupied most of the tables and chairs available, many of them were standing, occupying every inch of space the tavern had. The place was noisy and brightly lit making it unbearably hot, and a strong odor of sweat hung about the air like mist in the swamp. Marcus and Cassandra claimed a small table for themselves in a corner of the room, both of them wore the brown drab clothes of Fereldan's commoners, with hoods covering half their faces from view. The Seeker was fidgety and restless, while Marcus kept stock still listening for anything that might prove to be useful.

Many of the mages, Marcus noted, looked lost and confused, this didn't sit well with the nobleman, as far as he knew, Fereldan's King and Queen had given the mages refuge in Redcliffe, and the people seemed to tolerate their presence, the mages were not a conquering force they were refugees, they had no reason to be uncomfortable, so why were they so uneasy?

' _Could it have something to do with that Fade Rift outside the gates?'_ he wondered.

"I do not like this," Cassandra hissed.

"I do not blame you," Marcus said, "Fereldan ale is really not that-"

"I was not talking about ale!" Cassandra said,

"What is the point in hiding like this?" she demanded, "If there is a problem then we should root it out by confronting it!"

Marcus frowned in annoyance, did this woman know nothing?

"We are not hiding, we are gathering intelligence," Marcus said, "We can't solve the problem if we don't know what's going on,"

"Some mages have already mentioned an alliance with a certain faction," Cassandra argued,

"And we need proof, before we can act," Marcus replied.

The words had no sooner left his mouth when the door to the tavern opened and all noise in the tavern was snuffed out, as if a blanket had been tossed over the entire room. Marcus turned his head slightly to watch the newcomers and was shocked at what he saw. Two men walked into the room wearing black and silver armor, the likes of which he had never seen before, their helmets gleamed in the candlelight slanted and silver, even their swords looked foreign, with a straight blade with a sharp curve at the tip. The two guards stood near the entrance.

"Magister Alexius wants this place cleared out!" one of them announced. "The Herald is coming for negotiations, and this place must be made proper to greet him,"

Marcus gripped his half empty tankard tightly, ' _Magister!'_

He exchanged worried glances with Cassandra, as the people within the tavern began to shuffle out.

' _What is going on here?'_

Marcus stared in shock as the people filed out meekly, weren't these the very same people who resisted the Blight and undead invasion? Why were they letting some Tevinter dictate terms to them? Marcus felt something shake him hard, Cassandra was on her feet and gesturing for him to the same. The Herald got to his feet, when he noticed a small note on the table, something that had not been there previously. Marcus quickly grabbed the note and filed out with the rest, making sure to keep his head down like everyone else. Marcus grew tense as neared the guards but he passed by them without incident.

The fresh air outside the tavern was a welcome change, Marcus glanced around, and saw that no one was paying attention to him. He unfurled the small note, the font was neat and eligible.

' _Come to the chantry, you are in grave danger,'_

"Herald, what does the note say?"

"Its either a dire warning of danger, or a line from a really bad drama," Marcus said, "Let's hope for latter,"

* * *

"What was a fade rift doing _inside_ the chantry?"Cassandra demanded,

"Not the first time we have seen something like that," Marcus commented.

"Can't say I know why," added a voice, "I walked in here and oops, fade rift,"

Cassandra turned to regard the stranger, tan skin, a shade lighter than the Herald, dark hair, a preposterous moustache and a mage's staff were the things that the Seeker noticed. She quickly scanned the surrounding area for any enemies.

"You have no idea how that works, do you?" he asked Marcus. "You just wiggle your fingers and poof! Fade rift gone,"

"It's a trade secret," Marcus said, rather tersely, "One I do not like sharing with strangers,"

"Ah, I see, well then allow me to introduce myself, I am Dorian of House Pavus, formerly of Minrathous,"

' _Minrathous!'_

Cassandra stepped forward and grabbed Dorian by the collar. Using her formidable strength, she shoved the mage against the nearest pillar, placing her forearm against his throat, to her surprise he did not resist. Dorian's face was relaxed, but his hazel brown eyes had a tinge of fear to them, he had dropped his staff to hold up his hands in surrender, but Cassandra did not release her pincer like grip.

"We know there is a Magister in Redcliffe," Cassandra stated, "What is he doing here? What interest does he have with the mages?"

"I intend to explain everything," Dorian said, "But you have to let me go, I am not here hurt you,"

"How do I know you are not lying?"

"Look, if I wanted to hurt you, I would have attacked you while were preoccupied with the fade rift,"

"Seeker," said Marcus, "It wouldn't hurt to hear him out,"

Cassandra considered her choices, she scanned the chantry again for hidden enemies.

"You better not have men hidden in ambush,"

"If I did, they would have attacked by now, wouldn't they?" Dorian had managed to keep his chirpy attitude throughout the entire exhange.

Cassandra released the man and took a step back and found herself standing next to the Herald. Dorian ran a hand over his creased robes, before turning to the Herald.

"Trusting friends you have," he said.

"She has every right not to trust you," Marcus said.

Cassandra glanced at the nobleman in surprise, ' _That was unexpected,'_ she thought,

"And she is not my friend," he added.

The Seeker rolled her eyes, "Urgh," ' _That I expect him to say,"_

 _"_ Well, in any case," said Dorian, "You asked what is Magister Alexius doing here? Simply put he wants the southern mages, and they are holed up in Redcliffe… which is why he came here,"

"How did he even get inside Fereldan?" Marcus asked, sheathing his daggers and crossing his arms over his chest. "King Alistair may have welcomed the mages from the Circles, but I doubt he would extend that welcome to a Tevinter magister,"

"You are right, the Fereldan King would never welcome Alexius into his country," Dorian said, "But permission from monarchs is not needed when you know highly advanced spells that allowed you to traverse through time itself,"

It took Cassandra a moment to understand the full implications of what Dorian said.

"Time?" the Seeker asked, "As in time travel?"

"Precisely," Dorian said, "The fade rift you saw outside Redcliffe gates? That is a product of Alexius' magic and many more like that will come, if he has his way,"

"Is time travel even possible?" Marcus said, Cassandra could hear the awe in his voice.

"Well, not until recently," Dorian said, "Time travel was supposed to be impossible, only theoretical, but the Breach changed all that,"

"How so?" Cassandra demanded, "Somehow, it gave Alexius the magic he needed to power the spells,"

The wheels in Cassandra's head started turning, if the Breach gave Alexius the power to travel through time, then….

"Are you saying that the Breach is no accident," Marcus demanded, "That someone _planned_ it?"

"I can't say for sure," Dorian said, "What I do know is that Alexius intends to rip apart the very fabric of time to get what he wants,"

The Seeker was starting to feel suspicious. "And you know all of this how?" Cassandra demanded,

"Ah, you see, I used to be his student," Dorian said with a small laugh, "I helped him with his research,"

"You were his _student!"_ Cassandra snapped.

"I am on your side!" Dorian said, raising his hands in surrender, "I want to stop Alexius from killing you and potentially destroying the world!"

"You? His student?"

" _Was_ his student, actually, Alexius and I parted ways some time back, but I know how he works, more importantly, I know how his time traveling magic works, I can be an invaluable asset to you,"

"Dorian speaks the truth,"

Cassandra immediately drew out her sword and turned towards the source of the new voice. A young man, probably around the Herald's age stood near a side entrance in the chantry, his complexion was rather pale, compared to Dorian's, but his clothes betrayed his Tevinter origins.

"And who are you exactly?" Cassandra demanded.

"My name is Felix," said the young man, "Alexius' son,"

" _Great_ ," Marcus said, "First his student and now his son, Alexius must be a real stand up guy if the people closest to him are betraying him. Who is next? Jilted mistress? Angry wife?,"

"My father is a good man," Felix defended, "And I love him and my country, what I cannot stand is who he is working with,"

"And who is he working with?" Cassandra demanded, thing were starting to spiral out of control.

"A group of cultists called the Venatori," Felix said, "You saw them inside the tavern, they worship an entity called the 'Elder One',"

Cassandra frowned in concern, religious cultists at a time of the Divine's death was not good news.

"What do these cultists want?"

"They want the Herald of Andraste,"

An awkward pause followed this sentence, Cassandra glanced at Marcus with a mix of incredulity and concern. For his part, Marcus seemed to accept the news rather well.

"That's all well and good," he said, "But crazy cultists aren't really my type…. Unless they are _really_ attractive women, that might tip the balance in their favor,"

"Somehow, I don't think the Venatori want to sleep with you," Dorian said, with a smile.

"Really? Why? I am the Herald of Andraste, I can send them high to the Maker's side… in a manner of speaking,"

"Herald!" Cassandra snapped, feeling her cheeks heat up, "You shouldn't talk like that inside the chantry!"

Marcus smiled back at her, before turning back Felix.

"Why do these people want me," Marcus asked, "And please don't tell me it's a sex thing,"

Cassandra rolled her eyes, "Urgh,"

"I don't... think its anything like that, Herald," Felix said uncertainly, "I could not discern any particular reason, but I do know they are obsessed with you, maybe because you survived the Breach? What I do know is that my father is coming to speak with you, not because he wants to hand over the mages, but because he wants to study you,"

No one knew what to say in response, "You know some people want to worship me, while others want to kill me," Marcus said, "I think I prefer the worshiping,"

* * *

 _Kirkwall was in chaos, the stone city had been ripped apart with its buildings on fire, rubble blocking the roads and the screams of panicked people seared the air. The scene of devastation was too much for Marcus as he stared around at the tall buildings, scorched with black marks and not sure of what to do next. Marcus blinked and looked around, there was no one in sight, and he had no idea what had just happened, did the Quanri finally attack? There had been talk about it for weeks inside the Circle. It would explain why the call to arms had been rung, Marcus shook his head and looked around, he had no idea what to do. Apprentices were rarely let out, though he knew some of the students sneaked off to the Blooming Rose when their superiors were too busy to notice their absence. Marcus took a step forward, his senses were heightened, he felt tense like a bowstring pulled back. A loud scuffling noise made him jump and he jumped around daggers in hand. A tall elven woman dressed in dark green leathers was standing a few meters behind him, she was holding a bow with an arrow loaded and the bowstring pulled back. Her dark green cape fluttered in the wind, framing slender shoulders. Her eyes were narrow like slits as she studied Marcus._

 _"You a templar?" Her voice was firm, strong and rather deep considering her race and gender, it was the voice of a woman who gave orders._

 _"Me?...No," Marcus replied._

 _"You've got the armor,"_

 _"I was an apprentice," Marcus explained, he held up his daggers, though he was not sure what he could do against an arrow fired at close range._

 _"All the other templars are out fighting those horned beasts," said the woman,_

 _"I told you I am not with the templars," Marcus snapped, "I am leaving…left the order,"_

 _The full weight of his actions had still not settled in yet, the Qunari attack had chased the thought out of his mind. The elven woman lowered her bow and Marcus lowered his daggers, though he did not sheath them. The woman came into the moonlight and Marcus got a good look at her features, she her skin was pale almost like pure cream. She had a tall, slender and willowy, and she carried herself with a languid, easy grace that was in complete contrast to her chaotic surroundings. Her long silver hair was tied back into a ponytail to reveal two large ears, her pale blue eyes studied Marcus intently. The former student was beginning to feel uneasy when he felt movement behind him and he turned around. Two Qunari warriors were walking along the stone streets, their large hulking bodies were painted with a dozen red tattoos that covered their exposed torso. They were dragging two women behind them, kicking and clinging desperately to the stone ground, but to no avail._

 _Marcus acted on instinct, he did not think about the fact these were large Qunari warriors, nor did he think about the fact that he was inexperienced in combat despite his training. He only saw two people in danger and ran to help him. Marcus roared and charged at the Qunari warriors, the horned giants glanced in his direction before running at him with rather large axes. Marcus reached one of the warriors and ducked as the Qunari swung its axe, Marcus bend backwards and used the momentum from his run to slide underneath the attack. Marcus was behind the Qunari and turned around and swung his dagger with the intent of plunging it into the warrior's back. The nobleman felt his arm jar horribly as it struck the skin repelled the dagger as if it were made of rubber, Marcus staggered backwards and fell to the ground._

 _The grey skinned warrior turned around with a leer on his face, Marcus looked up into the cold, black eyes of the Qunari and felt fear flood him. He had never seen a warrior so large and imposing, not even Ser Alrik could compare to these beasts. Marcus tried to scuttle away, when he felt a giant hand clamp down hard on his head. It was the other Qunari, no doubt holding him still for the killing blow, the warrior's hand was so large that its fingers even covered his eyes. Marcus panicked and started swinging wildly, desperately, anything to get the big warrior off him. His struggles were to no avail, and the Qunari's grip began to tighten. Pain erupted around Marcus' head and he screamed. The Qunari made an odd sound, something that was halfway between a chuckle and a grunt._

 _'I am going to die,' Marcus thought desperately, 'I am going to be a headless, bloody pulp,'_

 _Suddenly, the Qunari went lax and Marcus felt the pincer grip on his head loosen, the nobleman scrambled away from the warrior, slipping along the stone ground as he tried to put distance between him and the warrior. Marcus quickly turned around to see if the warrior was looming over him but was surprised to see the Qunari lying still on the ground. Marcus searched for the other Qunari but found the warrior lying dead on the ground, as well, the two women were nowhere to be found. Marcus took a deep breath and got to his feet._

 _"You shouldn't be so reckless, boy,"_

 _The tall eleven woman sauntered casually towards, him sparing the Qunari a disdainful look. She was holding her longbow in one hand and an arrow in another. Marcus briefly noted the beauty of the longbow, a long and elegant weapon, before he returned to the problem at hand._

 _"I tried to stab one of them in the back," he explained, "But my dagger couldn't pierce the skin,"_

 _"Its why I said you should be careful," said the elf, with a small scowl, "These guys will not go down easily, something about their skin makes it difficult to penetrate,"_

 _"They were dragging two women away, what happened to them?"_

 _"They ran off when you got the Qunari's attention,"_

 _ _Marcus, sighed in relief._ "So they are safe,"  
_

 _"Provided they don't run into more Qunari,"_

 _Marcus examined the dead warriors and noticed that there were two arrows protruding out of where should have been eyeballs. He cringed and looked away, the elf saw his reaction and smiled, she casually strode over to the corpses and pulled the arrows out with a loud squelching noise._

 _"Well, try not to get killed, boy," said the elf, in a cheerful tone, "In future, avoid charging and yelling like a buffoon, you are not a berserker, you will only get yourself killed,"_

 _The elf smiled and gave him a jaunty salute, before turning around walking away, with a languid, easy grace. It was hard to believe that she was walking amidst a war torn city._

 _"Wait!" Marcus called, the elf turned around and placed her hands on her hips, giving him an appraising look._

 _"I need to get to Ostwick,"_

 _"Don't expect me to hold your hand," she said, "Finding you're a way through the city shouldn't be difficult, most of the Qunari soldiers have gathered at the Viscount's Keep,"_

 _"How did you-" Marcus shook his head, "I didn't say you should hold my hand, or anything like that, I just need to know if there is a way by boat,"_

 _Getting to Ostwick by boat would allow him to cut days out of his journey. He would reach Evelyn by then, before she left the Circle, Marcus also intended to send her a message, if he could._

 _"You are not going to get any passage out of the city after everything that has happened. Not one that's legitimate anyway, listen if you need passage out of Kirkwall, there is one man you can trust to set you up,"_

 _"Who is he?" Marcus asked,_

 _"The name's Varric Tethras, and don't talk to anyone else,"_

 _"Why not?"_

 _The elf sighed, "Seriously, do you not know Kirkwall?"_

 _Marcus shrugged, "I spent most of my time in the Circle," he explained._

 _The elf rolled her eyes, "Smugglers will lure you into their boats with promises of safe passage before selling you to slavers. I have seen it happened to so many people in this city…"_

 _Marcus swallowed and nodded, he wasn't quiet sure what to make of this new information, so he decided to focus on his new objective._

 _"Where can I find Varric Tethras?"_

 _"Look for him in a pub called the Hanged Man, in Lowtown," Marcus nodded, he had been to Lowtown on a few occasions, to assist in recruiting new mages to the Circle._

 _"Thanks for the help…" "Alysia," "Right,_ _ _Alysia_ ,"_

 _Marcus smiled, he hoped to meet this elven lady again though the chances were pretty slim._

 _"Thank you for saving my life, I am in your debt,"_

 _ _ _Alysia__ nodded, turned around and disappeared into the night. _

* * *

_A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Dorian joins the party, Marcus took some responsibility, and we will finally what sort of mess he gets into in Kirkwall and beyond!_

 _On another note, I will try to keep the length of each chapter down, this is going to be quiet a long story and typing chapters with 6,000+ words takes a long time. See you soon!_


	8. Burgeoning Responsibility

_A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to the next chapter! Don't hesitate to leave feedback and tell me what you thought!_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 8 - Burgeoning Responsibility_**

"We don't have the numbers to besiege Redcliffe Castle, we should go get the Templars,"

Cassandra may have been the one to recruit Cullen but he was not letting that little fact stop him from expressing opinions the Seeker did not agree with, normally she would appreciated the Commander's attitude, but in this case, it was incredibly infuriating.

"There is a foreign power within Fereldan, a dangerous one at that, do you expect us to just ignore it, Commander?" she demanded

"Ideally no," Cullen defended, "But Redcliffe Castle has withstood a thousand sieges since its foundation, and even if it was possible to take the castle, we don't have the resources to take on such an expedition,"

"Even if it could be done," Josephine added, "An 'Orlesian' Inquisition leading an army towards Redcliffe, would not be viewed kindly by Fereldan,"

For a moment, Cassandra expected the Herald to make a snippy comment, but there was only silence. The man was staring quietly at the map on the table, he had not said a word since the meeting began.

"And yet, if we do nothing we risk losing the mages _and_ we have a powerful foreign threat with a strong base for operations," Leliana said.

Her voice may have been soft, but Cassandra recognized the hardness behind the words, the spymaster firmly believed they should rescue the mages and she would not change her stance.

"From the reports we received, the mages have pledged themselves to Alexius," Cullen said, shifting his attention from Cassandra to Leliana, "To get to them we need to get to the Magister, and to get to _him_ we need to go through Redcliffe castle. The Templars have not given their freedom to someone else, if we go to Therinfall Redoubt with the Orlesian nobility we can sit and talk. We can resolve the matter peacefully, without getting into a fight,"

"So you say," Leliana said, in a rather dismissive tone.

"What is that supposed to mean, Spymaster?" Cullen demanded, his voice sounded much harder than before, clearly the lack of support was getting on his nerves.

"Not this again," Josephine sighed.

"I have received reports from my agents stationed near Therinfall Redoubt," Leliana said, "They have reported odd behavior from the Templars,"

"What sort of odd behavior?"

Cassandra looked on despondently as Leliana opened her mouth to reply, they were in for another long argument, just like so many before. Could they run the Inquisition this way? Time spent wasted on arguing when they should be making plans, even now, the Magister must be hatching another scheme to capture the Herald for some twisted purpose. As Cullen and Leliana argued about the best course of action, Josephine dotted down the minutiae of the conversation with a resigned expression on her face, and Cassandra turned towards Marcus, who still glared at the map in front of him.

Despite her dislike for the man, Cassandra couldn't help but feel a little concerned for his well-being. If Leliana's guess was correct and the Breach was the result of deliberate planning by the Venatori, then Magister Alexius would be looking to eliminate the one who survived the explosion. The Seeker felt a strong sense of protection wash over, she was not going to let the Venatori or anyone else, lay a finger on the Herald. Cassandra may not like Marcus Trevelyan but she could not deny his importance to the world, Thedas needed him, whether she liked it or not and she would do everything in her power to make sure he lived long enough to close the Breach.

' _What in the Maker's name is he looking for on that map?'_

Cassandra had never seen the man so still and focused (with the exception of tavern) and it made her wonder what she really knew about him.

"I am sorry," Cullen said, his voice ringing with a sense of finality, "But the Magister has out played us,"

Silence followed this emphatic statement, Cassandra sighed and looked away, turning their back on this magister was not a good idea and yet she didn't see any other option. How could they get to the mages and the Magister, if they could not break through Redcliffe? Cassandra felt very annoyed with the entire situation and had a sudden urge to hit the table.

"No, he hasn't,"

The other advisors turned to the one who spoke, Marcus looked up, he was standing straight and his jaw was set, but it was his eyes that captured Cassandra's attention. She was used to seeing a dull look in the Herald's eyes, like emeralds covered in dirt, but now Marcus' eyes burned brightly like Veil fire.

"The Magister hasn't outplayed us," Marcus said, speaking clearly for all to hear . "Because we know much more about him than he realizes, he does not know that the people close to him are secretly working with us,"

"Can we really trust Dorian and Felix?" Cassandra asked, uncertainly.

The Sekker did not sense any deception from either man, but she could not be certain. Marcus turned to her, his face set and determined.

"If they were trying to fool us," he said, "Then telling us that there were his student and son was a poor way of doing it. No, I don't think they were trying to fool us at all,"

"We are better off getting the templars, Trevelyan," Cullen growled.

Marcus glared at the Commander, "So you say, Commander," Marcus said, "But I am the one with the Mark, and _I_ say we are going to Redcliffe castle,"

Cassandra saw Leliana perk up at the statement.

"That is not wise," Cullen growled, placing his arms on the table and leaning over the war table.

Marcus cocked his head to one side, as he smirked at Cullen.

"Why so eager to go to Therinfall Redoubt, Commander?" he asked, "I thought you walked away from the Tempalrs?"

Cassandra scowled at Marcus, "That is not the point of the conversation," said the Seeker, crossly.

Marcus nodded, "You are right, it is not," he said, "Because I am not going to Therinfall Redoubt, there is no way I am trusting the Templars after what I saw at Val Royeux,"

Marcus paused but the advisors remained silent, "Felix said that the Venatori are obsessed with me, even if we turned our backs on them, they are going to come after us sooner or later. We are better off confronting them now, rather than waiting for them to come to us, _and_ I would rather face the opponent I know is waiting for me at Redcliffe castle, rather than the unknown mess at Therinfall Redoubt"

"Then how do you suggest we get into the castle, Ser Marcus?" Josephine. "We cannot lead an army into Fereldan,"

"We do not need to lay siege," Marcus said, "What we need to do is bypass its defenses, by infiltrating the castle,"

Cassandra frowned,

"How do you propose we do that?" she asked. Infiltration was not her preferred method of work.

"I don't know if you are aware of Ostwick's fortifications," Marcus said, "But the fortification has secret tunnels and passages within the walls itself, to allow guards to slip in and out without going through the gates. The same can be said about most fortresses, they are not just built to keep enemies out, they are built to ensure that those who own it, can get in and out without drawing attention,"

"So you are suggesting that we plan our entire military operation on the _chance_ there might be a secret path into Redcliffe Castle?" Cullen demanded, "Ridiculous!"

Marcus turned to Leliana, "The Hero Of Fereldan was there during the Blight," he said, "Surely, you must have found something?"

"There is a way in," said the Spymaster, "There is a path, a secret passage for the family, the Hero of Fereldan used it once to sneak inside the castle,"

Cassandra could feel hope rising in her chest, it seemed like their discussion was finally going somewhere.

"I can send agents through that passage, which would give us the element of surprise," said Leliana.

"What if the Magister sees the attack coming?" Cullen demanded. "He would have scoured every inch of that castle by now,"

"Then we distract him with something he wants rather badly, perhaps the meeting he craves?"

Suddenly the door opened with a loud bang, Cassandra immediately whipped out her sword and spun around to find Dorian standing at the entrance.

"How did you get in?" she demanded of Dorian, though her glare was directed at the agent who had followed the mage through the door.

"I am sorry, Seeker," said the agent, "But he said he had information on Alexius,"

"Does he now?"

"Indeed I do," Dorian chirped, "Alexius would have placed traps on every passageway into the castle, your agents will not get past them without my help,"

Cassandra sighed and nodded, she did not know if she could trust Dorian yet, but they did not have much choice in the matter,

"So the plan is for Ser Marcus to meet the Magister as a distraction, while Leliana sends her agents through the secret passage?" Josephine summarized, she sounded brighter than she did a few moments ago.

"Allowing us to stall the Venatori, arrest their leader and rescue the mages," added Lelilana.

"You do realize that this plan puts the Herald in a dangerous position?" Josephine, said, "We do not know what these Venatori want with Ser Marcus, for all we know, the call for talks could be a set up for a surprise attack,"

"Then I will go with the Herald," Cassandra said, "If these… Venatori attack, then I can protect him,"

"I am perfectly capable of protecting myself," Marcus protested.

Cassandra turned to the Herald, with an arched eyebrow.

"Against a Magister?" challenged the Seeker, "I have faced my fair share of hostile mages, I am better equipped to deal with them than you are,"

Marcus opened his mouth to argue, but he paused, then seeming to think better of it he closed it and turned away. Cassandra stared briefly at the Herald in surprise, before turning back to Leliana.

"Can you get access to this passage without getting noticed?" she asked,

"The passage is beneath the windmill, and it is locked using a secret key available only to Arl Eamon's family," said the Spymaster, "We will have to be careful, but it can be done,"

The Seeker nodded, that is all she needed to hear.

"Very well, Ambassador, send word to the Magister. Cullen, keep Haven safe while we are away. Grand Enchanter Vivenne will be staying behind to assist with defenses,"

The Commander sighed, "Yes, that is just _wonderful_ ,"

Cassandra turned to Leliana, "I will be taking Ser Blackwall, as well," she said, "Unless you have any more questions for him?"

The Spymaster shook her head, "He is an experienced warrior, and you will need all hands for this operation,"

Cassandra nodded, "Then the meeting is adjourned," she said, "Hopefully, we will stall this Tevinter threat and have the mages we need to close the Breach,"

The War Council dispersed, its members walking away to prepare for the coming operation. Cassandra turned to Marcus spun towards the exit and walked out of the hallway rather quickly. The Seeker watched him go, somewhat surprised and confused.

* * *

The Chantry building was too small, Marcus could feel a strong sense of panic surging through him and threatening to spill out of control. The nobleman felt his chest constrict and breathing suddenly became very difficult, he needed air, he needed to leave the building at once. Marcus walked quickly with his head down, he saw nothing but the dull grey, stone floor. He did not notice as he bumped into Mother Giselle, the Herald did not know he almost knocked a confused female dwarf off her feet, and he did not even say sorry to a pair of Chantry sisters as he literally shoved them aside.

Marcus shoved the huge Chantry doors open, the cold wind rushed at him and the nobleman relished the numbing effect it had on his skin. Marcus trudged through the snow and made his way to one corner of the Chantry building, his breathing still felt too constricted and he took deep breaths of cool, refreshing air. "Are you all right?" said a voice.

"No I am not all right!" he snapped, "There is a Magister in Redcliffe, a _fucking_ Magister, that creepy bastard with the creepy stare, and the creepy clothes can fucking time travel! _Time travel!_ That's not even possible, this is so much more than what I wanted and now I am going on some military operation. I have never done a military operation! I have never been part of the military and we haven't even closed the Breach yet and-"

"Stop!"

Marcus stopped talking at once, and looked at the person who spoke to him. Cassandra was standing there, though what had compelled her to follow him out into the snow confused him, in fact the Seeker was leaving him more and more confused each day.

"You," he said surprise, "What are you doing out here?"

"I don't spend all my time in the Chantry," Cassandra said curtly, "Besides, many commented on your abrupt exist from the meeting room. I wanted to see what prompted your actions,"

"And you are here to lecture me about protocol," Marcus said in a dry voice, "Going to lecture me about how to walk properly? How to talk properly? Perhaps you are going to tell me how I have to do my business in the privy properly?"

"If you want a lecture, then Josephine is the one to speak to," Cassandra snapped, "Though I doubt she would give you pointers about using the privy,"

Marcus snorted, "Thank the Maker for that,"

"You knocked Mother Giselle to the floor when you ran,"

Marcus cringed at that,"Did I? I am sorry, it wasn't my intention, I just…"

"Panicked,"

The noble man took a deep breath,

"I have never been in anything like this before," he admitted, "And its scary, military operations, infiltrating castles, distracting crazy Magisters, all this is new to me,"

"Its new to most of us," Cassandra said, a wry smile lighting her stern features. "But we learn as we go, we have no choice in that matter,"

Marcus nodded, the Seeker nodded in return and turned to leave. Marcus blinked at the abrupt end to the conversation, somehow the sight of the Seeker leaving wasn't something he wanted to see just yet.

"And what about you?" he asked.

Cassandra turned to face him with a frown, "What about me?" she asked,

"Aren't you nervous? About what we are about to do?"

"A little," she confessed, "The stakes are high, if things don't go as planned then the Inquisition will lose much more than its credibility,"

Marcus nodded, ' _Okay she was nervous as well,'_ he thought, _'That's reassuring'_

"Then how do you deal with it?"

Cassandra arched an eyebrow at the question, "I am about to deal with it right now, that practice doll is going to be in pieces when I am done,"

"Ah well, have fun, then,"

"I will,"

* * *

Cassandra may have found relief in practice, but Marcus didn't think sparring would help, so he decided to go to the tavern for a drink. After returning to the Chantry to apologize to Mother Giselle, Marcus made his way towards the wooden pub, the prospect of warm ale was much more comforting than the freezing winds. As Marcus made his way down the snowy paths of Haven, he took note of the people who passed him, mages in circle robes, templars in their silver armor, merchants with their wares, chantry sisters in their red and white garments and even dwarves hiding behind their hoods and shrouded in mystery. People from different corners of Thedas had flocked to Haven and the diversity in the village surprised Marcus. He wondered what this all meant for the Inquisition, would he be alive to see it grow? The Herald wasn't sure of the answer and it only served to drag his mood down even further. The nobleman was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not see the person walking in front of him, until he bumped into somone. Marcus gasped in surprise as his chest hit cold metal.

"Sor-"

"Watch where you are going, Herald!"

Marcus growled, any thought of apology driven from his mind as he recognized the person he bumped into.

Commander Cullen was standing there, his silver armor gleaming in the weak sunlight, and the reddish brown furs on his shoulders fluttering in the wind. The Inquisition's Commander was surrounded by his entourage who backed away slowly, as the two men glared at each other.

"In case, you haven't noticed," Marcus said, gesturing to the area they were in, "This path is not exactly small, you could have easily stepped aside,"

"So that's the way its supposed to be?" Cullen demanded, "You just walk around doing whatever you want and everyone makes way for you, is that it?"

The Marcus could feel waves of anger rolling of him, the mere sight of the Commander, with his ridiculous hair and stiff attitude was enough to make his blood boil. It had been that way ever since their first conversation, weeks ago.

"It must be difficult for you _Templars_ ," Marcus spat, "Having to make way for others, glad to inflict a hard learned lesson, Commander,"

"Again, with the Templars," Cullen snapped, the anger clear in his voice. "What is with you and your constant jabs at the Order?"

"What is with _you_ and your need to defend them?" Marcus snapped,

"The Order has been misled," Cullen said, "With the proper-"

"The Order," Marcus interrupted, "Is broken and corrupted,"

Cullen growled and clenched his fists tightly,

"You know nothing of the templars!" he said, hissed getting right into Marcus' face.

"I know enough," Marcus hissed back, not backing down an inch.

The air suddenly felt much colder than before, and thick with tension.

"Ah, yes. I remember now," Cullen said with a sneer, "Sister Leliana told me about your time in Kirkwall's Circle. I can't say I remember your name coming up. Then again, failed apprentices don't warrant attention from those high up in the Order,"

"I am sure you have forgotten many things about the Templars in Kirkwall," Marcus replied in a cold voice, "Like how many mages Ser Alrik lobotomized and raped,"

Cullen went very still at those words and Marcus pressed his advantage ruthlessly.

"Or perhaps you didn't forget," he hissed,"Perhaps you knew everything that was going on that filthy place, perhaps you allowed Ser Alrik to do what he wanted because you wanted in on the action. Tell me, Commander how many mages did _you_ rape before you decided to abandon the templars?"

Marcus was so intent on provoking Cullen that he did not see the blow coming before it was too late. Cullen's gloved fist collided with his jaw and sent him reeling backwards.

Marcus fell to the ground, pain exploding from his jaw.

"Don't. You. Dare!" Cullen roared, his chest heaving in anger. "I tried everything in my power to stop-"

Marcus did not want to hear any more, he charged at the Commander and slammed his shoulder hard into his midsection, tackling him to the ground. Marcus planted himself on top of the Commander and brought his fist down on the Cullen's jaw. He connected well and blood spurted from the Commander's lips. Cullen growled and kicked violently and Marcus was forced to back away. The two men scrambled to put some distance from each other. Marcus' chest heaved as he tried to draw in as much breath as possible, his jaw was aching from the blow blood was pounding in his ears and surge of excitement coursed through his veins like lightening.

Marcus had wanted to beat the Commander for long time, now was the perfect opportunity. The Herald pounced, he ran forward and crossed the distance between him and the Commander quickly. Cullen had not expected Marcus to be so fast and failed to avoid the attack to his midsection. Marcus' right fist hit the Commander in the gut. Cullen doubled over in pain, and Marcus followed it up with an elbow to the back of the head. Cullen fell down, but quickly got to his knees grabbed Marcus' feet and pulled hard. Marcus felt the air leave him as fell down to the ground. Cullen quickly got to his feet and kicked Marcus hard in the midsection. Marcus rolled away to put some distance between him and Cullen, before getting to his feet. The Herald took a fighting stance ready to attack the Commander. Cullen was breathing hard, his face was a mask of anger, blood was smeared across his face and he looked downright furious. Marcus ran forward determined to finish off the Commander…..

"STOP!"

Someone stepped in front of Marcus and he was forced to slide to a halt before he ran into them.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a voice.

Cassandra was standing between the Herald and the Commander, her eyes blazing with anger as she glared at both of them. Marcus took deep gulps of air, the pounding in his ears subsided and he became more aware of his surroundings as his anger ebbed away. A large crowd had gathered to witness the fight between the Herald and Commander, Marcus could see Iron Bull grinning in the background, his large form and grey skin a stark contrast to the multitude of pink faces around him. Cassandra must have had come to investigate the crowd before she broke up the fight.

"Cullen go to your tent, one of the Chantry sisters will tend to your injuries," said the Seeker, her tone leaving no room for orders.

Cassandra turned to Marcus, she glared at him with unabashed fury and Marcus knew he was in trouble.

"And _you,_ come with me!" Marcus glared at the Commander who was staggering away with the some of the templars helping him.

* * *

"What is wrong with you!"

Cassandra was livid her hazel brown eyes burned with fire, as she glared at him with unrestrained anger.

Marcus shrugged, as one of the Chantry sisters gently applied an elfroot solution to the bruises blossoming on his face and chest.

"You started a brawl with the Commander of the Inquisition, _in public_!" the Seeker demanded.

"I wouldn't call it a brawl," Marcus defended, "It was more of an ass kicking for him, and why do you think I started it?"

"This. Is. Not. Funny!" Cassandra snapped, going right up into Marcus' face. "You mocked and disrespected the Commander in front of his soldiers! How can he command respect after something like tha?t"

"That's his problem," Marcus snapped, defensively. "The stupid baby should not have started a fight with me just because he didn't get his way at the meeting,"

The Seeker was quiet close to him, and a small part of him noted that she was very attractive, with her aquiline nose and high cheekbones.

"Commander Cullen," said Cassandra, "Is one of the most mature and level headed gentlemen in this Inquisition, which is more than I can say for you,"

Without thinking about what he was doing, Marcus got to his feet feeling very angry.

"I gave the Commander a good dose of reality!" He snapped. "That man struts around thinking that he is important, he is _nothing,_ "

"You think any of this matters Seeker?" he demanded, "Spymaster, Diplomat, Commander, these are empty titles with no real meaning,"

"What are you saying, Herald?" Cassandra's voice lost much of its hardness, when she asked the question.

"I _mean_ all of this is nothing," Marcus snapped, gesturing to the tent around them, "Your Inquisition is pointless, to the rest of the world you are nothing more than a bunch of holy usurper taking advantage of the Divine's death to replace the Chantry. No one will take you people seriously, all of you will be condemned for what you are doing and _you dragged me into all of this!_ "

Marcus took deep breaths as he tried to calm down, but he never took his eyes off Cassandra. The Seeker's eyes went from hard and angry to soft and sad in a matter of moments.

"So, this is what you think about all of us, of this?" Cassandra asked, her voice was soft, just like the time in that secluded room in the Chantry. "We are trying to restore order and you think we… what _I_ am doing is a joke?"

Marcus swallowed and looked away, guilt starting to eat away at his anger. Cassandra took a deep breath and when she spoke again the hardness in her voice returned.

"Of course," she said. "You care nothing for others, just like other nobles,"

Marcus fought the urge to hurl an insult, and Cassandra continued.

"You are nothing more than a heartless shrew, callous, inconsiderate, and rude. Your casual attitude is an insult to the men and women who fight day and night to bring order to this world,"

Cassandra paused, and stepped closer to Marcus.

"But what do you know about that?" she said, "What do you know of committing to a cause much bigger than yourself? To fight for something beyond your own name and fortune?"

Marcus opened his mouth for a wiry retort, but found he had no answer to give.

"Your presence is an insult to all of us here Herald, so do us a favor: Close the Breach and then leave Haven,"

" _Gladly,_ "

Cassandra glared at the Herald one last time before she left the tent, leaving Marcus feeling cold and desolate.

* * *

By the time Marcus left the tent, night had fallen on Frostbacks, bringing cold gusts of wind that seemed to cut through his clothing as if it didn't exist. He hugged himself tightly to stave off the cold, the fact that there had been an isolated community living here for centuries was something Marcus could not understand. He missed Ostwick with its mild climate, even the coldest months were tolerable compared to what he currently endured.

Thinking about Ostwick made Marcus think about his family, he wondered if they had received word about his presence in Haven, he thought about what his mother was doing right now. Did she think about him? Did she even _care_ about him? Marcus had discouraged Josephine from reaching out to them but perhaps he should have told her to write a letter, they would not have given a favorable reply but he would have had some idea of how they are reacting to all this. Marcus' gloomy thoughts come to the forefront of his mind, like a serpent that had been hiding, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Marcus thought about the mission, the stakes were so high and so many things could go wrong, one mistake and time would literally fall apart. Marcus felt a wave of anxiety wash over him, and he took a deep breath to calm himself. He wasn't meant for these sort of operations, so why did the Maker continue to throw him into these situations?

' _Maker knows I don't want to fail anyone,'_ Marcus thought, ' _But this is all too much,'_

He could still remember the time Ser Alrik had made that innocent mage tranquil. Marcus' courage had failed him that day, he didn't have the courage to speak out and the thug had run rampant for years, until the Templar met his demise in Kirkwall's caves. No one knew how it happened, but Marcus was certain that Meredeith had blamed the mages for the Knight's death. Marcus had made bad choices and other people had paid the price, how many mages suffered in Ser Alrik's hands because of his mistake?

Marcus did not want anyone else paying for the bad choices he made, but what if he made such a choice in the heat of the moment? The Iron Bull seemed like an ally for now, but what if his Ben-Hassarth roots hurt the Inquisition in the long run? What if his decision to trust Dorian and Felix led to the deaths of several agents? Marcus felt a heavy weight fall on his shoulders and he sighed, how did the likes of Leliana, Cullen, Cassandra and Josephine deal with this pressure? Marcus had encountered the Spymaster on the cusp of making such a decision, apparently an agent named Fabio had died at the hands of a traitor agent. Leliana had ordered the betrayer to be killed, Marcus had stood silent and watched, as the Spymaster signed the death warrant of a man who had once been under her command. It sent chills down his spine and he had to wonder, did it affect her the same way it affected him?

Haven was practically empty, most members of the Inquisition were asleep, huddled up in tents and small huts. There were barely any patrols, those few who were supposed to keep watch on the premises huddled around fires more interested in trying to stave off the cold. Marcus made his way towards the cabin, he began to unwrap his arms slowly and reached out to the door, only one thought coursing through his mind,

' _Cold, cold, cold, cold, cold-'_

"Marcus Trevelyan?"

The young noblemen jumped at the mention of his name and turned around, a soldier dressed in the Inquisition's standard black and red armor, stood before him. Marcus was immediately suspicious,

' _How does he know my name?'_ No one in Haven called him by his name, even those who knew it preferred to use his title. Marcus was about to question the soldier, when the man suddenly moved towards him.

Had Marcus not been worn down by the cold or his own morbid thoughts, he would have anticipated the soldier's movements long before the man twitched. But in his wearied state, Marcus was taken by surprise and could only take a step back as the soldier lunged at him. Marcus saw a flash of silver before he felt a sharp pain in the pit of his stomach. He looked down to see the dull, brown hilt of a knife buried deep into his leather tunic, warm liquid was pooling around the area where the hilt touched his tunic. It took Marcus a movement to realize that the warm liquid was blood… his own blood. Marcus could feel himself fall to the ground against his will, his strength leaving him and his limbs starting to feel like metal, weighing him down. The soldier knelt down in front of him, his brown eyes alight with triumph.

"Thomas Trevelyan wants you to die, _abomination_!"

' _Thomas?'_ Marcus wondered, ' _Thomas did this!'_

Marcus suddenly felt his anger flare up, he reached for the dagger at his side, and tugged it out with all his might. Gasping in pain, and exhaustion, Marcus lashed out viciously with the dagger. His stomach screamed in protest, his muscles ached, and his chest threatened to burst from his effort. Gasping for breath, he dropped his dagger and fell to the ground, not knowing if he hit anything. Beyond the pain, he now felt the cold creep over him, like he had never felt it before. It seeped through his skin, and entered his blood, forming a tendril that crawled along his veins, intent on claiming his heart. Marcus curled up in a ball, ignoring the excruciating the pain screaming from his abdomen, as he desperately tried to stave off the cold that threatened to grip his heart. The Herald closed his eyes.

 _'Maker save me,_ ' he begged desperately, _'I don't want to die, please save me!'_

Marcus prayed fervently as he faded away, his blood turning the white ground him scarlet.


	9. Dreams

_A/N: Hello everyone! This chapter is quiet different from the ones that came before, so please tell me what you think._

* * *

Marcus Trevelyan blinked and looked around, the plush velvet curtains, the high windows, the thick carpets and the mahogany furniture were all too familiar. He made his way towards the window and looked out, a magnificent view of lush green hills set against a yellow and pink sky greeted him, a stark contrast to glistening snow and dark skies of the Frostback Mountains.

"Okay," Marcus said to himself, "Clearly, I am not in Haven,"

He turned around to study his surroundings, and jumped at what he saw. A woman in her early thirties was seated behind a thick, mahogany desk, piled with parchment, ink pots and quills. Her thick, blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail, preventing it from falling around her face as she bent down over her desk, writing something on a scroll. Thin eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and almond shaped green eyes narrowed in focus.

Marcus recognized the woman at once, "Mother?"

The sound of a quill scratching on parchment was the only reply he got. The gentle sound of a door opening and closing made him turn around, a small boy entered the room and quietly made his way towards his mother. Marcus stared as his six year old self looked around for a place to sit, before grabbing a small stool and sitting on it, and staring at his mother working. A bittersweet smile made its way to Marcus' face, he could remember this incident, and he remembered what would come next. Six year old Marcus continued to watch his mother with rapt attention, his eyes flitting between the Trevelyan matriarch and the scrolls on her desk.

"What are you doing here, Marcus?" Moira asked, she did not look up from her work, clearly her son was not worth the attention.

"I am watching you, mother," said the boy, in a bright, chirpy voice, he clearly thought his mother would be pleased.

"And why would you do that?" asked Moira.

"Because I am studying how you work, Mother,"

"You have studies to attend to, do you not? Why waste your time,"

Adult Marcus shifted his view, not to see his younger self, he already knew what he was feeling, but to get a better look at his mother. Moira Trevelyan kept a calm, neutral face as her son continued to speak.

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you," Moira stopped writing and looked up, her face remained an impassive mask, but the more experienced adult Marcus looked right into her eyes. An emerald storm was swirling in those eyes, the nobleman could see joy, pride and sadness swirling in his mother's eyes. Moira turned away from her son,

"Marcus let me make one thing very clear," she said, "You can never be me,"

Adult Marcus didn't need to look at his younger self to see the hurt look on his face.

"If there is anyone who can be me," continued Moira, "It is your brother Thomas, _he_ is the eldest amongst you, just like I was the oldest amongst my siblings,"

"But-but," stuttered the young boy in confusion.

"That is enough," dismissed Moria, she dipped her quill into an ink pot, and continued to write. "If you wish to serve the family Marcus, then return to your studies,"

The boy hung his head in shame, before slumping of the stool, "Sorry, mother,"

Adult Marcus continued to watch Moira, she had stopped writing the moment the boy moved, and was watching him with rather moist eyes. Young Marcus opened the door and departed, closing it quietly, as if trying to cause as little noise as possible. Moira took a deep breath and returned to her work, Marcus stared at his mother, studying her with a forlorn expression, before turning away, and this time the scene changed.

* * *

Marcus found himself in his mother's study yet again, though the scenery was different, it was dark inside the large room, candles were lit and the droplets of yellow fire cast looming shadows across the entire room.

"What is the matter with you!"

Marcus turned around, his mother was dressed in a wonderful gown of dark blue and velvet red, she looked lovely, but the look on her face was one of downright fury. Marcus glanced at the subject of her ire and cringed, some of the baby fat had faded away, but Marcus could still recognize himself as a young boy. He was dressed in a suit that matched the colors of his mother's gown, his legs dangling off the stool he sat on.

"I didn't do anything," he defended, "It was Evelyn's idea,"

"Nonsense! Evelyn would never do something so foolish!" Moira thundered, "She has far more sense that you,"

Both adult and young Marcus cringed at those words,

"But it wasn't me mother I swear it!"

"You expect me to believe that," Moira snapped, "You were caught red handed Marcus, how could you humiliate your brother like that?"

"Evelyn was part of it too,"

"Evelyn was nowhere to be seen!"

"She ran off!" Little Marcus exclaimed, "You should have seen it, one moment she was there, the next she was gone… like magic!"

"Your cousin," said his mother in a cutting voice, "Is more Trevelyan than you ever are, so do not insinuate that she has magic. Ever!"

Those cold words sucked the argument out of little Marcus, he sunk low into his stool and did not say another word.

"You say want to do us proud," Moira said, "But all you have done is embarrassed the entire Trevelyan family, embarrassed _me_! In front of the most pre-eminent of the Free Marches,"

Young Marcus did not look up as his mother made his way towards the door. She did not stop until she reached the door, Moira turned around and glanced back at her son, and noticed that he still hung his head in shame. The matriarch made to reach out to the young boy, before she changed her mind, turned to open the door and departed.

* * *

The scene changed yet again, this time Marcus was no longer in his mother's study but in what looked to be a large dining room, the curtains were pulled back, and sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating a large dining table filled with breakfast dishes. A number of people sat around the table, men and women, old and young but all of them dressed in the finery of nobility. Marcus could recognize his mother sitting at the head of the table, slightly older but no less elegant and commanding. His father sat to her right, black hair and beard starting to turn grey. To Moira's left sat Thomas Trevelyan tall, fair and handsome, and to his right sat his older sister, looking refined but far less comfortable in her dress, instead of her armor.

"Friends, and fellow nobility," spoke Moira, "As glad as I am to see all of you, I wish it can be under better circumstances,"

The laughter around the table gradually died away.

"Refugees keep pouring into Ostwick," Moira declared, "Word from across the Free Marches declares the same thing, refugees keep pouring in from the countryside and it is leading to a number of problems,"

"Like clogging our streets," said one nobleman,

"And disrupting commerce," said a noblewoman.

"So the question is what must we do about it?"

A brief pause followed this question,

"We should send guardsmen to drive them out," declared one aristocrat, he smiled at Delilah. "Perhaps your daughter can lead the charge, Lady Trevelyan,"

Moira opened her mouth to reply, but a loud noise at the door cut them off, a muffled yell followed quickly by.

"Stop, you cannot go in there!".

Marcus remembered this incident, the grand meeting with the nobles of Ostwick, before he was sent to Haven. The door burst open with a loud bang, and Marcus watched himself enter the room. Gone was the young boy who followed his mother around, in his place stood a young man tall, confident, but also hot headed.

The now adult Marcus strode forward, "I am sorry to interrupt such an urgent….meal," he spoke to the crowd, calmly.

But Marcus was not watching himself address the crowd, he was watching the crowd itself, and he noticed how his brother leaned towards his sister and said something. Both of them sniggered.

"Marcus," Moira said, speaking calmly, though her eyes told a different story, from the desperate look she exchanged with Malcolm, it was clear that he was not expected at the meeting. "We thought you would be out all morning,"

"That may have been the plan, mother," Marcus said to Moira, "But plans change,"

"They do, do they?" smirked Thomas.

Dream Marcus gave a polite, bland smile to his brother.

"Forgive my intrusion on what I was sure was a delectable breakfast," he said, "But I heard you talking about the problems in the countryside, and I had to interrupt,"

"If I got a coin for every time you messed up someone's day," Thomas said, "I would be rich enough to buy half of Markham,"

Thomas stretched his arms outwards, and opened his mouth wide to yawn loudly, a clear of sign of disrespect to the speaker. Moira watched the proceedings but did not interfere.

"But tell us what is so important that you had to barge in here?" he said, "Were your laces untied? Did you trip over own feet, like the time you were eight years old?"

The others nobles sniggered loudly, Marcus watched the dream version of himself bristle in agitation.

"I have been out into the countryside," he said, "I have scouted the fields around the city and I know why we have refugees coming into Ostwick: The mages and templars are fighting,"

"We already know that, _Marcus,_ " Delilah said, rolling her eyes. "It is why we here, little one, to find a solution,"

More sniggering from the nobles, Marcus watched the dream with a bemused eye, he saw plain as day what his siblings were doing, the plan to mock him in front of their peers was working too well. What surprised Marcus were his parent's reaction, they sat still watching the proceedings unfold. They had lectured him constantly on the importance of maintaining a united front when in the company of others. So why did they did not intervene when their own children were undermining one of their own?

"If you know the cause," Dream Marcus said, as he clenched his fists tightly, "Then you know the solution,"

"And what is that?" Thomas said, leaning back in his chair casually. "We need to go out there and take out both groups,"

A brief pause followed this declaration, Thomas leaned forward in his seat, with a big jaunty grin.

"You want us to send out guardsmen," he said, "And fight templars and mages?" Thomas threw his head back and laughed out loudly, Delilah smiled and shook her head, and some of the nobles laughed quietly to themselves. Dream Marcus glared at his brother, the anger on his face was clear to see.

"And why is that such a bad idea?" he demanded,"

"It is a _terrible_ idea," Thomas declared. "Templars are the most skilled fighters, and mages have the power to call all sorts of horrors into this world. You would have our brave soldiers die in a pointless cause? Would you have our sister, who by the way, is the Captain of the Guard, risk her life in some fruitless expedition?"

The people sitting at the table bristled, the men and women sitting at the table were familiar with the world of family politics, and they knew an accusation of familial murder when they heard one. Unfortunately, dream Marcus had not picked up on it.

"It is no worse an idea then attacking defenseless refugees who haven't done anything wrong," Marcus said, "Tackling the templars and mages, is the best option we have, don't you see that Delilah?"

Delilah's eyes were alight with amusement, "I am with Thomas on this one," she said, "Our guards are needed to keep order in the city, not die in a pointless war we didn't cause,"

Dream Marcus took a deep breath, "Look," he said, in a tone of forced calm, "I know it is a big risk, but it is the only option we have, unless you are too scared to do more than bump refugees on the head?"

Delilah glared at her brother, and Moria who had been studying her cutlery, suddenly snapped to attention.

"Marcus!" she snapped.

"I have done much more than bump refugees on the head, _brother_ ," Delilah snapped, "As you well know,"

"Oh?" Marcus said, "Ran your blade through some of them, as well?"

"Enough Marcus!" Moria snapped, getting to her feet. "Leave!"

Dream Marcus stared at his mother with a rather stony expression on his face.

"Mo-"

"Leave, or we will force you to leave!"

Dream Marcus inclined his head in a brief bow,

"By your leave mother," he said, "My lord, and ladies, I bid all of you good day,"

Marcus watched his apparition turn his back to the table, straight and stiff and walked away taking long strides, he could remember the burning humiliation as if it were yesterday. He had been trying to help, and his siblings mocked him for it, and the worst part was that his parents had let it happen.

Thomas threw his head back, and laughed loud enough for his brother to hear. "You will have to excuse my younger brother," he said. "He hasn't been right in the head since his failure to become a templar,"

"Failure or not," one nobleman said, "The idea does have some merit,"

Marcus watched the appraition of Thomas panic slightly, "My brother is extremely paranoid," he said, "He did not have the fortitude to withstand what he saw at Kirkwall, and was traumitized as a result of it,"

Dream Marcus had been walking away from the dining table, until he heard those last words. He stopped, and turned back towards the table, glaring at Thomas as he did so. "I'll show you fortitude," he snapped. Marcus watched as his apparition unsheathed his dagger with lightening, quick speed and flung it at Thomas.

Marcus opened his eyes, his body felt like stone, a weight that he could not bring himself to lift. He stared up at the ceiling of what looked to be his wooden hut, thinking about what he had just seen. Marcus had never seen dreams, even his own memories, in such vivid detail, did mages encounter the same strong visuals and imagery when they were dreaming?

"Nice of you to wake up,"

Marcus would have smiled if he had the energy, instead he inclined his head towards the speaker. Dorian was sitting on a chair beside him, even in the cold, wet backdrops of Fereldan, he still managed to look refined and elegant, his skin was clean and his hair styled in a way that Marcus was certain was the fashion of most nobles in Tevinter.

"How are you feeling?" Dorian asked, hazel brown eyes peering at him inquisitively.

"Thirsty," Marcus croaked, speaking was harder than he expected, his throat was parched and dry.

Dorian moved at once, he reached over to the table and grabbed a cup of water. Marcus reached for the cup, taking it with trembling fingers and sipping the water, relishing the relief as the cool liquid travelled down his dry throat.

"I have to say you have done remarkably well," Dorian said, taking the cup back. "A dagger to gut? Most people die from a wound like that,"

"I was wearing armor," Marcus said, automatically, it was something he was going to do more often.

"Even so, you survived," said the mage. "As you can imagine that is rather good news, considering that there is a giant hole in the sky spitting out demons,"

Marcus nodded, thinking about that night, he remembered the assassin who casually walked up to him, shoved a dagger into his gut and told him that his own brother wanted him dead. He remembered embracing the cold snow, and fading away.

"Dorian, how long have I been unconscious?"

"About a week," Dorian said, "Have to say it was a bit touch and go there,"

Marcus nodded, and paused, if he had been unconsioucs for a week….

"Dorian, weren't we meeting with the Magister in Redcliffe?" Marcus asked, feeling a little alarmed.

The mage nodded albeit reluctantly.

"Yees, about that," he said, drawing out the first word deliberately, "The Council has put those plans on hold,"

"Well, we have to unhold those plans," Marcus said, "The Breach is not going to close itself, and I can't close the Breach without the help of the mages,"

Dorian reached forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, Marcus tensed thinking that the man might put a spell on him, but Dorian only griped his shoulder blade gently.

"Listen, you have come back from the brink of death," he said, "But you are in no fighting condition yet, and you will need your strength and your wits when dealing with Alexius. I assure you, he is no man to trifle with. Rest, relax and worry about Alexius later,"

Marcus nodded, and leaned back onto his bed, his little outburst had already worn him out, and truth be told he had other things on his mind than the impending danger.

"Dorian, you are nobility, right?"

Dorian looked a little surprised at the sudden change of subject, but hid it well with a wide smile.

"I am not just nobility my dear man," he said, in mock outrage, "I am the scion of House Pavus! A product of many generations of breeding, and the repository of its hopes, and dreams. Naturally, I despised it all, the lies, the backstabbing, as I am sure you did, and so I walked away from it all,"

"I take it your parents did not take it too well?" Marcus said with a smile.

"Oh, they handled ot spectacularly well," Dorian said, raising his hands to emphasize his point,

"My mother was hysterical, and my father threatened to cast me out. Not the most convincing way to bring me back into the fold, considering I didn't want to be in it in the first place,"

Marcus chuckled at that, he could see that Dorian's casual, flippant attitude was a cloak that hid his real feelings, but he chose not to pry.

"And what of House Trevelyan? Not well known outside the Free Marches I am sorry to say,"

"Don't be sorry," Marcus said, staring up at the ceiling, "House Trevelyan wasn't a house to be respected, until my mother became head of the family… probably why she never wanted anything to do with me,"

Marcus continued to stare up at the celing, the blank wooden face providing no consel for the morbid thoughts that consumed him.

"When I was a kid, all I ever wanted to do was make my parent's proud," Marcus said, "I would do these _stupid_ things to impress them-"

Dorian's eyes lit up. "Like joining the templars?"

"Precisely," Marcus agreed, "Although, I never became a knight, I ran off when I was a student,"

"Very wise of you," chuckled the mage,

"The truth is," Marcus confessed, "I was never truly invested in being a templar, I only joined because my parents wanted me too. Now I realize that they just wanted me out of the way,"

"All I ever wanted to be was someone my parents could be proud of. I didn't want to be the heir, I didn't want to be the best, I just wanted to be one of them,"

Marcus paused and took a deep breath, tears were welling in his eyes.

"Now, I realize just how foolish I was," he snapped, "My parents never wanted me, they tolerated my presence but I was never one of them. My mother cared more about her family name more than she did about me. _She would rather have me dead then be with the Inquisition!"_

"You do not know that," Dorian said gently. "The assassin confessed, Thomas Trevelyan was the one who hired him,"

Marcus shook his head, "My mother leads the family, Thomas would not do something this drastic without her knowledge or her consent,"

"Sibling rivalry? Those are fairly common,"

Marcus shook his head with laughter, "Thomas was always the favored son. My mother favored him over me, always defended him from me, but never lifted a finger when _he_ humiliated _me_ , I was never his rival, I wasn't even a family member, he has no real reason to move against me,"

"Then walk away from it," Dorian insisted. "You are not defined by the Trevelyans any more than I am by House Pavus, carve your own path and create your own destiny,"

Marcus took a deep breath, trying hard not to be overwhelmed by his emotions.

"Being a Trevelyan is all I know," he said, "Whether I am the unwanted Trevelyan, or the rebellious Trevelyan, I was _always_ a Trevelyan. I am not sure how to be anything else, is that strange?"

"It isn't," Dorian said firmly, "I understand how you feel, I would be lying if I said didn't take some pride in being branded the deviant in my family,"

Marcus paused, as something occurred to him, "That's why I kept rejecting my responsibilities here," he said, "Deep down, I never wanted to be the Herald because I never wanted to lose my Trevelyan identity,"

Marcus chuckled, "I thought that Cassandra and the Council were trying to impose themselves on me, and I was so angry at them for it, that was stupid,"

Marcus sighed, "All I ever wanted to be was a Trevelyan," he said, more to himself than Dorian, "But the Trevelyans don't want me, and I say fuck them. Its time I be the Herald that the Inquisition needs, that it _deserves,_ "

Dorian leaned back on his chair, "And just how do you plan on doing that?" he asked.

"For starters," Marcus said, "I need to see the Council, and tell them that I am ready to talk with Alexius, we should not postpone that,"

The words had no sooner left his mouth, when a brief knock on his cabin echoed in the small room, Marcus glanced at Dorian who smiled smugly back at him.

"I sent a messenger as soon as you woke up," Dorian said, "You were probably too groggy to notice it,"

The door opened, and a cold gust of wind blew into the room, followed by three women and one man. Marcus watched as the War Council filed into the room, Cassandra broke away from the line, her brown eyes were alight in wonder and awe, as she stared at Marcus, or more specifically, his abdomen.

"You are alive!" she gasped, "This is a miracle,"

Marcus grinned at her, "Not up for a hug at the moment, though," he said. "Or much else really,"

"Its good to know you have pulled through, Herald," said Leliana, she came forward and stood over Marcus' prone body. "They were moments when we thought you were lost,"

"Believe me, no one is more glad than I that I am," Marcus said, he felt particularly vulnerable lying helpless on his bed around the Spymaster and the Divine's Right Hand, but he had no choice.

"But I wanted to talk to you about Alexius and the mages," Marcus said, "We cannot postpone any longer, we have to speak to him now,"

Leliana and Cassandra glanced at one another, before the Spymaster spoke, "With all due respect Herald, you are in no position to-"

"I am well aware of my situation," Marcus interrupted her gently, "But we cannot delay, every moment we do nothing, the Breach stays up in the sky, spitting out all kinds of demons and endangering people. We cannot let that stand,"

"And what of your wound?" Cassandra said, "Even with magical healing, it will take weeks for you to fully recover,"

"I will be careful," Marcus reassured her, "Perhaps a change needs to be made to my escort, but it can be done. What we cannot do is delay any further,"

"Herald, we cannot-" started the Spymaster.

"Time is not a luxury we have, Leliana," Marcus said, "Unless you mean to tell me that the Hero of Fereldan cruised through the country on his quest to save it?"

The Left Hand stared at Marcus with piercing, blue eyes, but Marcus held the stare, it was a bit risky to talk about the Hero, especially when it was clear that Leliana held a soft spot for him, but Marcus was counting on that affection to win the argument.

After a while, Leliana sighed. "Very well," she said, "We will make the arrangements,"

Josephine stepped forward, "I will send word to Redcliffe tonight," she said, "It is good to see you alive, Herald,"

Marcus nodded back to the diplomat, it occurred to him that he had barely spoken to her since his arrival at Haven. Josephine immediately departed for the exit, Cullen merely nodded towards Marcus before following Josephine out the door.

Leliana nodded, "Get some rest Herald," she said, "You are going to need it," The Spymaster then made for the exit.

Cassandra waited for Leliana to leave before she turned around. "Despite everything we have been through," she said, "I am glad that you are alive,"

"Believe me," Marcus chuckled, "I am glad as well,"

Cassandra smiled at the attempt at humor, "Rest up Herald," she said, "You will need all the strength you can muster,"

Marcus watched Cassandra walk away, her hips swayed slightly with each step, a surprisingly feminine movement from a tough and gritty warrior. Marcus continued to watch Cassandra's swaying hips right until she walked out the door.

' _She has a very nice back side,'_ he thought.

"Ahem," said Dorian, who had been quiet all this time.

Marcus turned to face the mage.

"Yes?"

"I see that not even the verge of death can stop your roving eyes,"

"I have no idea what you are talking about,"

"Of course you don't" Dorian held up a cup containing clear liquid. "This is a potion that will help you sleep, drink it and you will be out like a light,"

"Thank you," Marcus said, taking the cup. "Dorian, when I feel better, I'd like to go to chantry,"

Dorian raised a groomed eyebrow in confusion, "You don't go there often enough?" he asked.

"I meant I have never prayed there before," he said, "I haven't prayed in a while, but perhaps after everything I have been through, reciting a few Canticles wouldn't hurt. Maybe I'll understand why I am here in the first place... after everything that has happened,"

"That sounds like a solid plan," Dorian said, getting to his feet and making his way towards the door, "Considering that we are about to confront an evil Magister and his evil minions,"

Marcus smiled at the comment, before he tossed the contents of the cup into his open mouth, he then laid back on his pillows and let sleep over take him, where no more dreams plagued him.

* * *

 _A/N: Please Review  
_


	10. Negotiations In Redcliffe

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay. Thank you so much for the reviews, I really enjoy hearing your thoughts on your story._

* * *

 _ **Chapter 10 - Negotiations With Redcliffe  
**_

 _ **Redcliffe, Fereldan**_

Marcus started up at the massive double doors that granted entry into Redcliffe castle, to the naked eye the door seemed inconspicuous, but Marcus' trained eye captured several minute details that left him feeling disturbed. The double doors did not gleam with the strength and vitality one expected of a fortress like Redcliffe. The doors looked dirty, worn and cracks in the surface exposed a dull orange light. Marcus was worried that he would be walking into a trap.

"Are we not going in, my dear?"

The Herald bristled in agitation, if there was one part of Thomas' failed assassination attempt that agitated him, it was the change it wrought to their plans. Grand Enchanter Vivienne, who was not supposed to have come with them, was to stick by Marcus' side at all times. Marcus had not fully recovered from his wound, and while he could walk or ride a horse, he still could not fight like he used to. Thus, his negotiations with Alexius became even more dangerous. Vivenne was supposed to use her skills as a Knight Enchanter to keep the Herald safe from both melee and ranged attacks. Marcus did not like the idea of someone putting themselves in harm's way, for his sake, and he liked it even less when they were people he did not trust.

"It feels like we are walking into a den of wolves," said Cassandra, clenching her mailed gloves in anticipation.

Marcus turned to grin at her, "Speaking from experience are you?"

Cassandra turned her gaze from the door to him. "You could say that,"

Chuckling to himself, Marcus turned to face the door.

"Let's go," Marcus said, "We need to… negotiate with the Magister,"

The group of three approached the doors, which parted as soon as they approached, and entered the entrance chamber.

The entrance chamber of Redcliffe castle was shrouded in darkness, torches were hung on brackets nailed to the wall, but the pinpricks of light did little to fight back the overwhelming darkness. Guards stood against pillars lining the halls, they silence adding to the oppressive atmosphere. Marcus could vaguely make out a few tapestries and portraits, flashes of color that screamed against the oppressive, dull, grey stone. The entrance chamber was quiet large, but its floor empty. The footsteps of the Herald and his escort echoed loudly against the stone. Marcus felt very uneasy, even with his companions by his side, every fiber in his body was screaming at him to unsheathe his daggers, and it took every bit of willpower to keep his instincts from taking over his body. The nobleman felt something cool touch his shoulder, and turned to his right. Cassandra was staring at him intently, the weak light cast a silhouette over the group, and the Seeker's refined and angular features stood out in the semi darkness. Marcus' met her eyes with a questioning gaze, and she nodded in return.

"Steady" she said, "Be at ease,"

Marcus smiled at her, "Do I seem uneasy to you, Seeker Pentaghast?"

"You are like a wild cat straining at his leash," she replied.

Marcus frowned, "Wild cat? Couldn't you come up with a more ferocious animal?"

"No,"

"You are no fun,"

"This is hardly the place for _fun,_ "

"My dears,"

Marcus noted the warning tone in Vivienne's voice, and dropped the matter, though the little exchange with Cassandra, made him feel better, and he approached the steward with more brazen confidence than he felt moments ago.

Marcus eyed the steward in plain clothes, turning his nose up at the man, and sparing him the look of disdain the way most nobles regard commoners.

"Announce us," he ordered.

The guard did not respond, but a pale, blonde haired man, dressed in blue approached them, he eyed the Seeker and the mage uneasily.

"The Magister's invitation was for the Herald alone," he said, his accent revealing his Fereldan heritage.

Marcus glared at the announcer, "They are coming with me," he said, his tone brokered no argument.

The announcer stared at Marcus, but the Herald did not relent. At last, the man nodded.

"Follow me," he said.

The announcer turned around and began to make his way up a flight of stairs. Marcus gave one glance at Cassandra who nodded encouragingly. If she was nervous about the coming negotiations she was not showing it.

The steward lead them towards a set of tall oak doors, framed in a stone archway, the Fereldan opened the doors and gestured for the Herald to enter. Taking a deep breath, Marcus stepped through the doors, and found himself inside a large room. A fireplace burned brightly casting enough light over the entire chamber, and illuminating the décor, which consisted of stone dragons, and other foreign items Marcus saw as foreboding. Alexius was waiting near the fireplace, sitting comfortably on a wooden throne-like chair, with his son Felix standing beside him.

"The agents of the Inquisition are here your grace," said the announcer.

Alexius smiled. "My friend, it is good to see you again," said the magister. "And your associates, of course,"

' _I really don't feel the same,'_ Marcus thought, "Greetings, magister," he said at loud, "The feeling is mutual,"

Alexius smiled and nodded, though it was not a genuine smile. "I am sure we can reach a solution that is equitable to both parties,"

Marcus heard the faint patter of delicate footsteps, before a voice spoke.

"And are we mages to have no say in decisions that affect our fate?"

Marcus turned around to see the petite frame of Grand Enchanter Fiona, the Orlesian mage seemed to be nothing more than a dot in the vast expanse of the chamber, but she stood straight and firm, glaring defiantly at the Maigster who loomed over her from his throne like chair.

"You would have not turned the lives of your followers over to me Fiona, if you did not trust my judgment," Alexius said, a subtle reminder of Fiona's subservient position.

' _Right because you just_ _ooze_ _trust,'_ Marcus thought.

"Fiona, my dear, your dementia, is starting to show," Vivenne commented.

Marcus held up a hand to silence the Enchanter, "If Grand Enchanter Fiona wishes to be a part of the talks," he said loud enough for the everyone in the chamber to hear. "I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition,"

Alexius nodded, before turning around to sit on his throne.

"Thank you," Fiona said, gratefully. "I have the mages you need to close the Breach,"

Alexius sneered, he did not spare Fiona a glance as he sprawled over the immense chair.

"So tell me, what will you give me in return?" Marcus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I am sure we can come to some sort of arrangement, Maigster Alexius,"

Marcus explained, Alexius raised his eyebrows, "Oh?" he said, "What do you propose?"

"We have the finest foods from all over Thedas,"

Marcus said, in a gleeful voice, Alexius frowned, "I have no appetite for foreign food thank you very much," he snapped.

A small voice at the back of his mind told Marcus not to unnecessarily provoke the Magister, but he choose to ignore that small reasonable voice.

"Well, Maigster, that's probably because you have only tasted what Fereldan has to offer, and let me tell you, it isn't that great," he explained, "Surely some sweet bread from the Free Marches, or beef from Rivani would be enough…. to curry your favor?"

" _Urgh_!"

The magister's eyes narrowed in dislike. "You mock me?" he hissed.

Marcus sighed, he really hoped Leliana and her agents were getting through the castle's passages.

"Of course not," Marcus said, "What I am _trying_ to say is that we have contacts all over the world, spies who can gather valuable information,"

The nobleman was not certain if that was true; but he reasoned that it would not matter in the long run. However, Magister Alexius proved to be too clever, as his cold, brown eyes glared at him suspiciously.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, "Why do I get the feeling that you are humoring me?"

Marcus was about to open his mouth, to reply.

"He knows everything, father," said Felix suddenly.

The Magister's head snapped around to face the young man standing beside him.

"What?" he asked, "How?"

"I told him,"

"Felix, what have you done?" said the Magister in a tone of surprise and anger. He got to his feet and turned to face his son.

"I did what I thought was right!" Felix exclaimed, "These Venatori, what they are making you do, it is not wrong! It is not what we stand for,"

Father and son had clearly forgotten the presence of the Herald and his companions. Cassandra took a step forward, with her mouth slightly open. She was about to say something, but Marcus held up his hand to silence her. The Seeker turned to look at the Herald, with a slight frown on her face.

"We are supposed to keep them busy," he whispered, "Let them argue with one another," Cassandra nodded, somewhat reluctantly, and took a step back.

"I do not care about what is right or wrong," Alexius snapped, " _He_ can save you, Felix,"

"You need to stop this, father," Felix entreated, "Do you know who you sound like?"

"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché, everyone expects us to be," spoke a posh voice.

Marcus turned to the newcomer in the room with a grin on his face; Dorian was strode into the light dressed in light armor of purple and white, and looking completely at ease despite the tense situation.

"Does that villainous cliché include a horrible fashion sense?" Marcus asked.

Dorian let out a loud dramatic sigh, "I am afraid so," he said, "We are mostly known for dark colors, and spiky accessories,"

Marcus gestured to the magister, who was now glaring at Dorian. "I see he is not doing anything to break that stereotype,"

"Dorian," hissed the Magister, seemingly unaware of the exchange between the Herald and his former student.

"I offered you a chance to be apart of this, and you turned me down,"

"Completely understandable given the fashion," Marcus muttered.

"Herald, please take this seriously," Cassandra hissed.

"Alexius," said Dorian, "This is not what we envisioned, when we designed the spell. Think about what you are doing,"

A gurgling noise cut through the tension in the chamber. Everyone turned towards the source of the noise, one of the Venatori guards collapsed to the ground, an Inquisition agent now stood in his place, with a bloody knife in hand. But it was not just a single guard, all around them, Venatori guards were falling to the ground, with Leliana's agents taking their place.

Marcus grinned in relief, ' _They broke through!'_ he thought, ' _This operation is a success,'_

The Ostwick native turned to the Magister, who was looking at the Inquisition agents with shock on his face.

"Magister Alexius," he declared, loudly for everyone to hear, "It looks like you are now in a _hot soup_ ,"

Dorian looked at him confused, "Hot soup?"

"Don't bother asking," muttered Cassandra in an exasperated tone.

The Magister looked around, seeing his dead agents, he glared at Marcus.

"I must undo the mistake at the Temple," he said, "And you _are_ a mistake, Herald, you should never have existed!"

"Well, my brother actually agrees with you on that end," Marcus said.

Alexius didn't say another word, he raised his hand and amulet began to glow bright green. Marcus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, as a powerful but indiscernible feeling swept through the room.

"No!" Dorian cried out, as he swung his staff.

Whatever he did caused Alexius to stumble. Marcus pulled out his daggers, as a huge emerald green portal sprung to life, towering above his head. Marcus turned around, determined to get away but something pulled him towards the portal, like a powerful fist that clamped down around his shoulders and dragged him in the opposite direction.

"Herald!"

Marcus looked up at the voice. Cassandra's face was one of shock, her hazel brown eyes were round with surprise, she was running forward oblivious to the danger with her arm outstretched towards him. Before Marcus could yell at her to get back, he felt something pull him into the portal. The view of the chamber faded rapidly, and he was surrounded by darkness.

* * *

Marcus' body felt like dead weight, his limbs weighed heavily preventing him from getting up. A dull ache seemed to resonate throughout his body like a ringing bell, and his head was swimming in darkness. He reluctantly opened one eye to take in his surroundings, he found himself in a stone chamber, something in the texture and construction of the imposing room told him that he was in Redcliffe castle.

"Alexius you fucking bastard," he groaned.

Marcus raised himself until he was on his hands and knees, but quickly crumpled again as he felt an excruciating pain in his gut. The Herald groaned trying to think of some way to ease the pain.

"Are you hurt?" Dorian's voice broke the pain like a ray of light through mist.

Marcus nodded, "My wound," he gasped, "I think its opened again,"

"Sweet Andraste! It must be because of our fall," said Dorian, "Come, I need you to turn onto your back,"

Marcus groaned at the thought of moving, but he shifted himself slowly until he found himself staring up at the ceiling. The wounded noblemen immediately noticed a strange red light up the entire chamber.

"What's with the lights?" he asked.

"I am not entirely sure," Dorian replied, he held his hand over Marcus' stomach, and a bright blue light sparked to life, the noblemen felt the pain rescind at once.

"I think we are still in Redcliffe castle, but its different somehow," Dorian said, "I can see red lyrium growing out of the walls,"

Marcus frowned at that. "Did you see that lyrium when you lead the Inquisition agents here?"

"No," Dorian replied, "But we did not go through these dungeons, I would recognize the rooms if we did,"

The blue light faded away, and Dorian stood up.

"There," he said, "All done. I have formed a small shield around the wound to make sure it doesn't open again. Though you still have to be careful,"

"For now," Marcus muttered, he slowly shifted to his feet, and go to his feet rather gingerly.

The Ostwick native studied his surroundings. The chamber had a decrepit, neglected look, as if it were not used frequently. Water had seeped into the room, it sloshed around as Marcus moved.

Tapestries, portraits, and other artifacts were scattered carelessly around the room, as if someone had sought to discard the treasures rather than store them. Even in the semi-darkness of the room, Marcus could clearly recognize the possessions of nobility, no true nobleman or noblewoman would toss away such wealth carelessly.

"What do you think happened here?" Marcus asked, "Was the little stunt from Alexius responsible for this?"

Dorian studied the room around them.

"I doubt what Alexius pulled off can be called little," he replied, "But it probably wasn't what he intended,"

Marcus groaned, "I hate to think about what he intended,"

"Alexius summoned a rift," Dorian explained, "But that rift moved us where? To the nearest confluence of arcane energy?"

' _Mage talk,'_ Marcus thought, ' _This is not good,'_

"Of course! It is not where, its when!"

"When?" Marcus exclaimed, "You mean that we have been _shifted_ through _time_?"

"Precisely," Dorian exclaimed, delighted that Marcus caught on so quickly. "Alexius used the amulet as a focus to move us through time, I believe his original intention was to wipe you out of existence entirely, that way you would not have been at the Conclave,"

"I am sure my parents would love to that," Marcus muttered dryly. "Is that why you cried out ' _No_!' and did some fancy staff movement, to counter his spell?"

"Yes, I also believe he acted before he was ready," Dorian said, "The presence of the Inquisition agents made him reckless,"

"And I thought the atrocious Fereldan food gave him a short temper," Marcus muttered.

The Herald shook his head, he didn't want to think about what Alexius had done, the implications were too overwhelming. Instead, he decided to focus on the next course of action.

"But where are we?" he asked, "More accurately, when?"

"That's what we have to figure out," Dorian said, "We have to make our way to the upper levels, if there is a way to get back, we will find it,"

"We will _have_ to find it,"

Marcus looked for his weapons but could not find them.

"Dammit," he muttered, "I must have dropped my daggers when I was dragged into that… time hole,"

"Blood of the Elder One!" exclaimed a voice. "How did they get in there!"

Marcus looked up, two Venatori guards were standing merely meters from them, their silver armor and steel weapons gleaming in the dark. For a moment, the two groups of men stared at each other in surprise. The guards did not pause for along, they drew out their swords and charged at the mage and rogue. Marcus didn't hesitate, he went forward to meet them, ready to kick and clobber the guards using his martial arts skill. One way or another, he was going to undo what Alexius had done.

* * *

 _A/N: Please review!_


	11. The Dark Path

_**Chapter 11 – The Dark Path**_

"Grand Enchanter Fiona!"

The wearied Enchanter was nearly unrecognizable, for the once prim and proper mage looked haggard and worn. Her clothes were torn, and dirty as if they had not been changed in months, while her face was marred with scars and premature wrinkles, and her once opulent green eyes took on a reddish tinge making her look like demon. But the most horrifying detail, was noted by Dorian.

"Is that… red lyrium growing out of you?" he asked.

Marcus stared in dawning horror, at first glance it looked like the Grand Enchanter was encased in a cage of red lyrium, but on closer inspection it looked like the lyrium was growing _out_ of her, the glowing red crystal protruded through the naked flesh.

"You are alive," she gasped, "Impossible!"

"Hardly," Dorian replied, "When Alexius sent us through the fade rift, he didn't kill us, he sent us into the future,"

Fiona squinted at them, as if she couldn't believe what they were saying.

"What happened to you?" Marcus asked. "How did Redcliffe castle end up like this?"

"After you disappeared," Fiona gasped, "The Venatori had your spymaster and companions imprisoned, all the Inquisition agents were slaughtered,"

Marcus shook his head in denial, "That can't be," he snapped.

"I am afraid she is right," Dorian said, "Venatori are crawling all over this place, do you think that would be the case if the Inquisition had prevailed?"

Marcus took a step back, his mind reeling from what he had just heard, how could this have happened? It was simply not possible for the Inquisition to have fallen!

"Do you know what year it is?"

Fiona frowned, "I heard some of the Venatori's guards saying that it was a year since the Herald of Andraste disappeared," she said.

Marcus looked up at the mention of the title, to find Fiona looking directly at him. She remained silent but her face was wracked with pain.

"We need to find Alexius," Dorian said, "It's the only way of getting back to our time,"

Marcus nodded, unable to speak.

"Your spymaster can be found in the dungeons," gasped Fiona, "And your companions are in the lower dungeons,"

"We can't just leave her like this," Marcus protested.

"You have to!" Fiona gasped, "I cannot be saved, but your companions may yet be rescued,:

The Herald of Andraste nodded, thought something in him made it very difficult for him to look away. "Go! The Venatori will be here at any moment!"

Marcus took a deep breath and turned away from the horrific sight of the First Enchanter, the mage might have been foolish to strike a deal with the Venatori, but she did not deserve this fate.

Marcus turned to Dorian, "I find it hard to believe that the Inquisition would fall," he said, "Nor can I really believe that Leliana and Cassandra were captured,"

"You think Grand Enchanter Fiona was lying?"

"I think she is deluded," he said, "That can happen when you have red lyrium growing out of your body,"

"I wouldn't exactly know... thank the Maker,"

Marcus surveyed his environment the long corridors traveled in all directions, with some passageways going to the upper floors, while others lead down to castle's lower levels. The only source of light came from torches lit with veil fire, which cast an eerie green glow across the entire area. A strange musky smell hung about the air, and Marcus wrinkled his nose in discomfort. Redcliffe castle looked far more foreboding than it should have been. Marcus and Dorian turned a corner, and came upon a staircase that led to the lower dungeons. The place looked darker, and gloomier than before. He had only taken one step, when he heard laughter ringing through the air, shattering the silence like a brick going through glass. Marcus glanced at Dorian, though he could barely make out the man's features in the darkness.

"Venatori," Dorian whispered, "Are you up for a fight?"

They had thus far, relied on stealth to sneak past guards, but Marcus knew that if they were going to break out their companions, a confrontation was inevitable.

The Herald steeled himself and nodded. "Lets do this,"

The mage and rogue immediately took to the shadows, and waited with baited breath. Two guards came round the corner, their casual posture screaming vulnerability to Marcus' trained eyes.

"Things have been boring since the Elder One unleashed the demons," noted one guard.

"The countryside has been wasted," agreed the other, "There really is nothing to do, even Magister Alexius has locked himself inside the grand chamber, only servants are now allowed in to bring his food."

"Do you think it is some new magic for the Elder One?"

Marcus frowned, _'Who is this Elder One?'_ he thought,

"Can't say," said the second guard, "Though I can't imagine the point, Fereldan has been destroyed, the Inquisition is dust, even Orlais has been shattered to pieces," Marcus had heard enough, the guards had just passed his hiding spot, when he crept out behind him. Neither guard noticed him as he sneaked behind one, and slit his throat, covering his mouth as he did so. The other one had hardly turned around, when he found himself encased in ice. Marcus did not hesitate as he shattered the ice block with a kick. Dorian came up to him, he spared a glance at the fallen guards before speaking.

"Did you hear that?"

"Their cries of excruciating pain?" Marcus asked, "No, sadly not,"

"I meant that part about Orlais and Fereldan," Dorian explained, "And the Inquisition?"

Marcus shook his head, "Sorry but I refuse to believe that the Inquisition died barely a year after its inception. They have good leaders at the helm,"

"What if that wasn't enough?" Dorian asked.

Marcus couldn't believe what Dorian was saying. "Do not tell me that you believe these fools?" he demanded, "They are just fanatics bragging, _dead_ fanatics might I add,"

"And who would they be bragging to exactly?" Dorian challenged. "Empty walls, and musty smelling rooms?"

Marcus shook his head, and made his way down a flight of steps. "Come on," he hissed, "The lower dungeons are this way,"

The two of them made their way towards the prisons in silence, but Marcus' mind was racing. Were the soldiers telling the truth? Did Orlais and Fereldan really fall? How was that even possible? How could Southern Thedas fall to a bunch of fanatics? What happened to the Grey Wardens? What happened to the Inquisition? They would not just stand by and watch two countries fall apart.

' _The guards were exaggerating,'_ Marcus thought, ' _They had to be,'_ But a nagging voice had cropped up in his mind, a voice telling him that the world had fallen apart, and his absence had something to do with it. Marcus shook his head and cleared his mind, he needed to focus on the mission.

"It looks like we are in the dungeons," Dorian explained.

Marcus quickly surveyed the area, and found the mage's deduction to be accurate. The walls were made out of stone that was cracked in several areas. Cells lined both sides of the room, dark iron bars containing mounds of rubble, and red lyrium. Marcus immediately searched the cells, he did not have to wait long to find his quarry.

"You are alive?"

The Herald spun around at the voice, it did not sound natural, there was a gravelly undertone, as if the speaker's throat was lined with rocks. But Marcus could still recognize the one who spoke.

How could he not recognize the voice of Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast?

Marcus saw her sitting on the cold stone floor, her legs folded up to her chest, and her arms wrapped around her knees. Her eyes were no longer a hazel brown but had taken on a reddish tinge. Marcus frowned at her, this submissive creative curled up on the floor was _not_ the Cassandra he was familiar with. The sight of the Seeker sitting on the floor, and looking helpless was not what he wanted to see. It could only mean that something horrible had happened. Annoyed, the Herald walked over to her cell, grabbed the bars, and rattled them.

"What the hell are you doing, Cassandra?" he demanded. "Why are you staying put like this? You should be finding a way to escape!" But Cassandra did not respond, tears began to fill her eyes, and she looked down at her curled her hands.

"Maker, forgive me," she wailed, "I failed _everyone_!"

Marcus could only stare in dawning horror, the image of this once tall, proud and strong woman now squatting on the ground in despair rendered him speechless.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, rattling the prison bars in agitation. "You are Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine! You are one of the best warriors I have ever seen!"

But Cassandra shook her head in denial. "No, no, no it wasn't enough," she said, "It was my duty to protect you, to keep you safe. But you were pulled into the rift…and everything went wrong after that,"

Marcus stared in horror, ' _No, no, this cannot be happening,'_ he begged silently.

"Leliana was captured, her agents slain, we tried to fight but there were too many of them,"

Cassandra shook her head. "I don't know what happened after that," she murmured, "We have been in this cell for too long, a fitting punishment for my failure,"

Marcus stared as the truth came crashing down on him, the sight of the Seeker on the ground, bemoaning her failures convinced him that what he was seeing was real. More than the giant red lyrium crystals, more than the Venatori patrolling the corridors, more than Grand Enhacnter Fiona's disposition it was the sight of the once strong warrior now broken on the ground that convinced him that this grim reality was true.

Marcus took a step back, reeling in horror as the full meaning of his situation came crashing down on him.

' _How could this have happened?'_ he thought, ' _The Inquisition should have been stronger than this,'_

Somehow Marcus knew the answer, somehow for all the prowess of its leaders, for all its resources, the Inquisition had lacked something or more specifically someone, and it had been their undoing. Cassandra started to sobbing, and it unlocked something in Marcus. He quickly unsheathed his daggers, and through deft skill, unlocked the cage and walked over to her.

Marcus knelt before the Seeker, "Cassandra listen to me,"

The Seeker raised her head, tears were not falling down her face but the sadness in her eyes was clear to see, it shook Marcus to his core.

"That day when I was pulled into the rift," he said, "I didn't die, I was transported into the future, right here."

Cassandra looked at Marcus, her expression lightening like a ray of sunshine bursting through the clouds.

"Then…"

"You didn't fail Cassandra," Marcus said, "We can still fix this, Dorian and I are planning to find the amulet the Magister used to transport us through time, and get back to the past. We can _fix this_ ," he said, gesturing. "We can undo all of this, but I need your help to do it,"

The Seeker looked at him for a long time, Marcus held her gaze and for a moment the rest of the world faded away. He was seeing a remarkably different side to her, Cassandra's eyes were not like stone, hard in anger, they were soft and moist revealing emotions that she had never expressed before. Marcus stared transfixed feeling a strong tugging in his heartstrings. But eventually the moment was broken, as Cassandra nodded in consent.

"I will fight," she said, "As well as I can, they haven't let me out of this cell in over a year,"

"Don't worry," Marcus said, smiling in encouragement. "It will come back to you,"

He stood up and held out a hand to help her, Cassandra grasped his hand and lifted her up. Marcus noted that she was wearing the same black and white armor from a year ago, though it was starting to rust from a lack of maintenance. Oddly, enough Cassandra did not emit any body odor despite being stuck in the same clothes for over year, probably because the dungeons were cool, mild rooms.

"I have the other one,"

Marcus turned towards the speaker. Dorian was standing in the middle of the dungeons, green flame on the lantern cast a low light to reveal a familiar a mage.

"Madame Vivenne?" Marcus questioned in surprise.

"She and I were taken prisoner because we were your escort," Cassandra explained, "The rest…."

Like Cassandra, Vivenne bore signs of having endured great suffering, her face was caked in dirt and soot. The Enchanter's light armor had lost its luster, and was even coming undone in certain areas. Her large, oval, dark brown, eyes no longer gleamed with confidence and arrogance but looked dull with despair.

"Herald?" said Vivenne, as if she hardly dared to believe it, "It…it gladdens me to know you yet live,"

"Well…. the feeling is mutual Madam De Fer," Marcus said, his heart twanged in sympathy, despite his dislike for the mage, her plight gave him no joy.

Vivenne laughed, it was a soft throaty laugh which strained her voice, as if she was not used to doing it.

"No one has called me that in a _long time,_ "

"Well, the Venatori are about to find out why they shouldn't have dropped the title," he replied, with a smile.

Marcus walked out of the cell, a small gasp made him turn around. Cassandra had moved to follow Marcus out of the cage only to stagger slightly in her step. Seeing her struggle, Marcus moved to help her, she looked up as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I will be alright," she said, "I have been sitting still for quiet some time,"

"We need to get moving," Dorian said, urgently. "Staying in one place will expose us to the Venatori,"

"And I would avoid a head on fight if possible," Marcus said. "None of us are in a position for that,"

"Wait!" said a voice, "What's happening here?"

The Herald turned around, three men had just walked into the dungeon, one carried a long sword and a shield, the other was a soldier who held a curved sword, and the third was a mage, his features hidden behind his hood.

For a moment the two groups stared at each other in surprise, then chaos broke out. Marcus flung his dagger at the Venatori mage. The spellbinder held up a hand and the dagger froze in mid air. Dorian unleashed a powerful barrage of lightening, the spell lit up the dungeon as it flew towards the large warrior with the shield. The warrior with the broadsword charged at Dorian before he was suddenly frozen into place. Surprised, Dorian turned to Vivenne who had a tired smile on her face.

"It's been a long time, but I have not lost my touch," she said.

"Indeed, not," replied Dorian with a smile.

Marcus did not notice this little exchange, for he was too preoccupied with the spellbinder, who had now opened his book and begun flipping through pages. Marcus ran towards the mage with the intent of tackling him to the ground before he could cast a spell. The ground beneath his feet lit up with a bright orange, and the Herald could feel heat surging through his boots. Acting on instinct, he dived to one side just as the ground beneath his foot exploded in flames. Marcus rolled to one side and glared at the mage. The spellbinder leered at him and summoned a ball of fire. He held up his right hand to fling the ball when something large, and silver hit him hard in the face, and split his head open. Marcus blinked in surprise before he looked around. Cassandra was standing over the dead body of the gladiator, with the fallen warrior's shield in her hand. She had obviously grabbed the warrior's sword and flung it at the mage, just like she had done once before.

Marcus smiled at her, "Back in shape, are we?"

"I still have a long way to go before I gain some semblance of the warrior I once was," Cassandra said in her gravelly voice. "But it feels good to hold a weapon in my hands again,"

The Seeker's eyes glowed remarkably bright red, even in the semi-darkness of the dungeon. It made Marcus wonder just how long she had been exposed to the red lyrium. Dorian walked over to the fallen spellbinder and picked up the man's staff. He went to Vivenne's side and handed the staff over.

"Its not much but it will have to do," he said.

Vivenne took the staff, feeling the weight in her hand, and she nodded to Dorian in silent thanks.

"So much for avoiding a head on fight, my dear," she said.

"So much for thinking we could not handle it," Marcus replied."Clearly we are in better condition than I initially thought,"

"No, we got lucky," said Cassandra, "This was a small group and they were surprised to see us. The castle will have more men, who might be better prepared. We will have to be very careful when navigating the fortress,"

"Before we confront the Magister," Marcus said, "We will have to go to the dungeons, and get Leliana,"

"She is still alive!" Cassandra exclaimed, in surprise.

"Let's hope she will be in a condition to fight," said Vivenne.

* * *

The team of Marcus, Dorian, Vivenne and Cassandra made their way up the castle towards the torture chambers. The corridors were dark like midnight skies, and a foul smell of dried blood and rotting flesh hung in the air. They had encountered rooms with disturbing devices that sent shudders through Marcus', but these rooms also contained neglected parchment that documented what had happened in the year since his disappearance. Marcus still found it difficult to understand how his absence led to the downfall of the entire world. He read letters of how the countryside had been wiped out and how there were almost no people remaining for the demons to feast on. A demon army? Who would want such a thing? Who was this Elder One? Dorian had said that the man was some kind of magister but did one individual really have such power? Marcus did not have all the answers, and right now he was not sure if he wanted them. Right now, what mattered was finding the magister, his amulet and then returning to his old time.

"How did Trevelyan know about the Conclave!"

"I will never tell you!"

Marcus winced as Leliana's defiance was met with a loud slap. The cry of pain she uttered sent chills down his spine.

"You _will_ break!"

"I will _die_ first!"

He nodded to the rest of the party and he quickly opened the door.

The sudden entrance of the group distracted the Venatori soldier. Leliana was behind him hanging from the ceiling from handcuffs.

"Or you will,"

Marcus watched in surprise as Leliana wrapped her legs around the man's shoulders and after a brief moment of struggle snapped the man's neck.

' _She must have been like this for over a year,'_ he thought, ' _Where did she find the strength to do that?'_

"You are alive?" Leliana's voice was one of surprise, tinged with hope.

Marcus made his way over to her, and removed her bonds, the handcuffs came off with a sharp tug.

"We never died," he explained, "When we fell through the rift, we went one year forward in time,"

"Time travel," Leliana said, she shifted her face enough to expose her features, what had once been a pale, beautiful face had been ravaged by months of torture. Porcelain skin was tinged with grey, scars etched deep into her facial features, her eyes had taken on a wild, sinister look, as if all the good had been drained out of her.

"What…" Marcus started before he stopped himself.

"What _happened_?" snapped the former Spymaster, "The world fell apart that is what happened!"

"We are trying to fix this," Marcus protested.

Leliana made her way towards a bench, where a bow and a quiver of arrows lay discarded.

"The Magister and his magic wiped out what this entire world, villages, cities, empires all of it crumbed because of that damned man," said Leliana. "This is why people fear magic, no one should have this kind of power,"

Marcus blinked in surprise, it had only been two days ago where Leliana was strongly advocating for rescuing the mages.

"The sooner we find the Magister the sooner we can fix this," he said.

" _Fix this,_ " sneered the spymaster, she secured her gear and walked out of the room.

Cassandra watched the spymaster stalk out of the room before turning to Marcus, his surprise must have shown on his face, for she spoke.

"For you, this is some mistake that simply needs to be undone," she said, "But for us, it was real, we _lived_ through it,"

"I know, Cassandra," said Marcus, covering the distance between them, and reaching the entrance. "But I am going to make things right, you have to believe me,"

The Seeker stared at him for a moment, before she said, "I believe you," she said, "I must,"

The group made their way through the horde of Venatori soldiers, Marcus' stomach was still sore from the wound, but he did not let that stop him. He was going to fix this mess no matter what it took. The rest of the team, save for Dorian were not fighting at their peak but clever use of Redcliffe's terrain, ensured their prevailed in their encounters. Marcus played a pivotal role in these skirmishes, by crossing the battlefield with lightening quick reflexes to take down the spellbinders before they could inflict serious damage. They had encountered a temporary obstacle in one of the magical locks that Alexius had placed on the door, but it did not last as Dorian found a way to bypass the magic. When Dorian unlocked the massive double doors, Marcus turned to his companions.

"Be prepared for anything," he warned.

Dorian seemed to be coping well, but Cassandra, Vivenne, and Leliana were breathing hard.

"We are with you," Cassandra said.

Marcus nodded and then turned to Dorian. "Open the door," he said, "The Magister has some questions to answer,"

The doors opened into a massive hall, Marcus recognized the place, it was the same chamber where he stalled the Magister, while the Inquisition's agents sneaked in. He had felt so confident in his success then, so happy when the operation looked like it would succeed.

' _How times change,'_ he thought.

The only source of light in the room was coming from the far end, the fireplace was ablaze with an unnatural green flame. A figure draped in robes was hulking over the fireplace, whether the entity knew about the intruders was not yet clear to Marcus. Though the Herald could not see its face, he knew that the stooped figure was Magister Alexius. Growling in anger, Marcus marched across the room, his companions following close behind him. The Magister turned to face the approaching group.

"I knew you would come," he said, "When the spell went wrong I knew you would come for me someday,"

The man standing before him was a far cry from the man who sneered at him over a year ago, the veneer of arrogance had faded away, replaced with apathy and desolation. The eyes that once viewed him as something distasteful were now empty, devoid of any life like a dusty room with cobwebs. The sight of this pathetic man angered Marcus even more.

"Alexius," Marcus snapped, "Its time to answer for what you have done,"

"What I have done," Alexius' eyes fell elsewhere, as if he was no longer seeing the people in the room, but something else far off in the distance. "Was necessary,"

"Necessary!" yelled Marcus, "You fucked up the entire world! You put my friends in prison! For what? For that fucking fireplace?"

Alexius snapped back to attention, "You don't understand,"

"What I don't understand," snapped Marcus, "Is why I didn't gouge out your fucking mouth the moment I met you,"

"It was for Felix!" Alexius snapped, "I did this all for _my son_ ,"

"Felix is here?" Dorian said, "But, where is he?"

"Right here,"

Everyone in the room turned towards the voice, Leliana was standing behind a man, holding a dagger to his throat.

"Felix," gasped Dorian, "Maker's breath Alexius, what have you done!"

"I saved him Dorian!" Alexius said, a hint of emotion entering his voice. "The Elder One promised he would, and he did,"

Marcus stared in growing disgust at the Magister, the young man did not _look_ alive, as he barely reacted to Leliana pressing her dagger to his throat. Felix may have been breathing but there was no movement, no emotion, nothing to indicate that he was anything more than an empty husk. The fact that Alexius thought he saved him left Marcus disgusted.

"Let him go and I swear you will get what you want," Alexius pleaded, speaking to both Leliana and Marcus.

"I want the amulet Alexius," Marcus declared, if he could get what he wanted without getting into a fight, then so be it.

"And _I_ want the world back," Leliana said, in a cold voice.

She sliced the defenseless man's throat, blood spewed out of the opening and Felix collapsed gurgling as he did so. For one moment, everyone froze, Alexius stared with dawning horror at the son he taught he saved, Marcus stared at the dying body, surprised to find any life at all, Dorian stared mournfully at his former friend. Cassandra and Vivenne stared apathetically having grown accustomed to so much death, while Leliana crouched low like a predator ready to pounce.

"You…"

Alexius raised his hands. Marcus could feel the air cackle with energy.

"No!"

A powerful shock wave emitted from Alexius and hit the entire party. The force of the impact shoved Marcus backwards, though he quickly righted himself and landed gracefully on his feet.

Alexius had somehow transported himself to the center of the room, with a gesture of his hands, he summoned a fade rift. Marcus' right hand flared with green light as demons came pouring out of the fade rift.

"Sweet Maker," gasped Dorian.

But Marcus was focused on his goal, he needed to return to his time, to do that he needed to kill Alexius and take his amulet. He wasn't going to let the odds stop him.

"Dorian," Marcus snapped, "You, Leliana and Vivenne fight the demons. Me and Cassandra will kill Alexius,"

Cassandra stood ready, Marcus joined her side.

"Are you ready?" he said, spotting the Magister hiding behind a column.

"Always," she replied.

"Good, lets make that man pay for what he has done,"

The group readied themselves before throwing themselves into battle, determined warriors clashed with relentless demons fighting to save their future from an apocalypse.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you for reading and please leave a review telling me what you thought!_


	12. The Inquisition Moves Forward

_A/N: Hello everyone, sorry for the delay.  
_

* * *

 ** _Chapter 12 -The Inquisition Moves Forward  
_**

Silence fell over the entire hall as everyone struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Cassandra stared at the spot where Marcus and Dorian were standing only moments ago. Her mind knew what she saw, but her heart refused to accept it. The Herald was gone, somehow the world's only hope for closing the Breach had disappeared into thin air. "

It didn't work," whispered a voice, "It didn't _work_ ,"

Cassandra rounded on Alexius, far from looking triumphant the Magister looked pained, as if worried about something. The Seeker advanced on him, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pinned him roughly to the wall, Alexius did not resist.

"What did you do mage!?"

Alexius looked away but did not respond, "I _said_ what did you do?"

"I-I,"

Alexius' stammering was interrupted by a loud noise, A powerful force enveloped Cassandra, and she toppled to the ground as a powerful explosion ricochet through the air. The black hole that had consumed the Herald reappeared, before Cassandra could shout out a warning Marcus and Dorian fell out of the hole and onto the floor. Marcus landed on his feet, though Dorian toppled onto the floor with an ungraceful 'oopmh'. Everyone in the room stared in stunned silence as the Tevinter mage got to his feet. Dorian wiped imaginary dust from his robes, before looking around, hazel eyes alight with wonder and delight.

"Hah! It worked!"

Marcus, however looked anything but delighted, his green eyes blazed with fury as he scanned the room, looking for something. As soon he spotted Alexius, Marcus marched over him, Cassandra watched him curiously as Marcus walked over to Alexius, who was now lying on the floor with a petrified look on his face. Before Cassandra could open her mouth to ask a question, Marcus grabbed Alexius roughly by the collar.

"Magister Alexius," he hissed, it was a voice dripping with malice and anger, Cassandra did not like the way he sounded. "The people of Dragon 9:43, say hello,"

Without warning Marcus stabbed Alexius, plunging his long, sharp dagger deep into the Magister's shoulder blade. The Magister howled in pain, like a dog that had been given a nasty kick in the gut.

"Oh, that hurts, does it!" Marcus yelled, "How about all the people you killed? What about them!" Marcus twirled his other dagger and stabbed Alexius again, this time in his left arm. The Magister cried out in pain,

"Please, please," he whimpered in pain, "I surrender,"

"I don't give a fuck if you surrender,"

He stabbed the Magister, blood dripped to the floor, the coppery smell hitting Cassandra in waves.

"Herald, stop," she commanded, "This is not necessary,"

But Marcus did not stop, either because he did not hear or because he was too angry to care. He stabbed Alexius again, this time in the right shoulder.

"Marcus, there is no need for this," Dorian said, walking forward holding out his hand in a placating gesture. "He surrendered,"

"Herald, please that is my father," Filex, implored.

But Marcus refused to listen.

"I am going to make you pay for what you have done!" he yelled, spraying spittle all over Alexius' face.

He raised the bloodied dagger again, and Cassandra knew she had to act fast. The Seeker moved towards Marcus and grabbed him firmly around the wrist.

"This ends now!"

Before Marcus could react, she twisted his arm behind him and locked him in position. The Magister' face was a twisted portrait of anguish and pain, as he collapsed to the ground. Cassandra dragged Marcus away from the bleeding Magister, he turned to Dorian and a few other agents.

"Help him!"

Dorian, Felix and the other agents quickly moved to aid the magister. Dorian held up his hands towards Alexius red wounds, healing magic poured out of his wounds.

"This is the kind of company you now keep, is it Dorian?" gasped the Magister, "Ruthless barbarians who butcher their prisoners?"

Felix gave Marcus a look of sad, disappointment before turning to his father.

"Hush now, father" he coaxed, "Save your strength,"

Cassandra heard murmurs behind her, and realized the soldiers were talking about Marcus' actions.

Marcus lashed out violently, trying to break free of Cassandra's grip through sheer violence, but the Seeker would not relinquish her grip.

"Let me go," he snapped, "That bastard has to pay,"

"I said enough!" she yelled. "You have done enough, _Herald of Andraste,_ "

The title made Marcus pause, though Cassandra could still feel him breathing heavily. Eventually, Cassandra released his hold on him, and he stood still, as if thinking about what he had just done. The murmuring reached a high pitch, and the Seeker deemed it best to do something about that. She turned towards the gathered agents,

"All of you!" she snapped, "Prepare to leave, we depart as soon as we get word of the Magister's condition,"

The Inquisition would not occupy Redcliffe castle, they were not a conquering force and to linger would be unwise. Leliana's latest reports had suggested that the Arl of Redcliffe was returning to his domain with the royalty of Fereldan supporting him. Cassandra spotted Grand Enchanter Fiona standing quietly to aside, trying hard not to draw attention to herself. tThe timid Enchanter standing before her was a far cry from the outspoken women who stood up to the Templars at the White Spire. But Cassandra could understand her apprehensive behavior, things had spiraled beyond her control, the moment the Magister set foot in Redcliffe.

"Well, that's not the way I would have liked things to end," said a voice. "But overall not as bad as I feared,"

Cassandra turned around Dorian had entered the room, his step lacked the usual gait he usually carried himself in. Marcus was still staring off into the distance.

"Will the Magister live?" Cassandra asked.

Dorian nodded, "He will need time but the worst of it is over,"

"Good," said Cassandra, "The last thing we need is to have the Magister die at the hands of the Herald,"

Marcus shifted uncomfortably, but the Seeker was in no mood to coddle the man.

The door to the hallway entered with a large _boom,_ everyone in the room turned towards the door. Men in armor marched inside, a column of men-at-arms long enough to cover the entire length of the room made their way inside. The Inquisition agents backed away as Ferelden's soldiers assembled near the pillars. Two people dressed in royal clothing entered the room, one was a tall man with handsome, boyish looks, and blonde hair. The other was a women with a stern beauty, both of them looked to be in their thirties. Cassandra knew who these two were though she had not seen then before, they were Fereldan's monarchs: King Alistair and Queen Anora Therin.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona," called out Alistair, "Imagine our surprise to find Redcliffe under the rule of a magister! Last we remember, Bann Tegan was in charge here,"

Fiona made her way forward rather timidly, "Your majesties!" she exclaimed, "You have to understand, we did not-"

"Our understanding, Grand Enchanter," snapped Anora, "Was that the mages were to stay in Redcliffe but _not_ drive people from their homes,"

"If you would allow me to explain," entreated Fiona.

Cassandra felt a twinge of sympathy for the Enchanter, but it did not excuse her actions, the King and Queen would be right to levy punishment.

"Sadly, we are not here to listen to explanations," said King Alistair, "I... we wanted to help but your actions have made that impossible, you and your kind are to leave Fereldan this instant,"

"But where will we go?" Fiona begged, "We have women, children, hundreds in need of protection,"

Cassandra sensed rather than saw Marcus turn around at her words, he quickly made his way towards the center of the hall, where the King and Queen stood with the First Enchanter.

"The Inquisition can offer you shelter," he said, "But it will come at a price,"

"A price?" said Fiona, "We should not have accepted Alexius' offer, I know-"

"No, you shouldn't have!" interrupted Marcus in a harsh voice, "But you did, and your actions nearly wiped out the entire nation, may be even worse,"

Fiona opened her mouth but was interrupted.

"You are getting a fine offer," said the Queen, "I suggest you take it, regardless of the price, for you will not find any welcome with us,"

Fiona bowed her head in submission, "We accept your offer," she said, in a sad voice, "And the price that comes with it, no matter what it might be,"

"Good," Marcus said, "From here on, the mages of Redcliffe are the mages of the Inquisition, you are soldiers, agents, diplomats, servants, foot warmers… whatever the Council decides you are. You are to disband all your ideas, political and otherwise, for your agenda is the Inquisition's agenda. You will do what we tell you to do, and you will go where we want you to go. If any of the mages fail to follow the rules set by the Council, they will be punished accordingly. Is that clear?"

Cassandra blinked in surprise, she had not expected such a hard line from Marcus, though she approved of it.

Fiona sighed deeply, "Are we to pay such a high price for wanting freedom?"

"Yes," snapped Marcus, unsympathetically, "You have shown that you cannot be _trusted_ with freedom. The Inquisition needs you to close the Breach but we are not going to make the mistake of trusting _you,_ "

No one spoke after Marcus finished, Fiona bowed her head in meek acceptance. In that moment, a strong feeling swept across the room, subtle as the breeze it touched everyone who bore witness to the moment. A historic moment when the mages of Southern Thedas bowed before the fledgling Inquisition, accepting an offer for protection, but submitting to the terms of imprisonment. Cassandra was no noblewoman, but she was off noble birth, and recognized crucial moments when she saw them, and the sight of the Herald of Andraste conscripting hundreds of mages for the Inquisition was certainly one of them. The Seeker glanced around to see the others reactions, Vivenne's face shone like the sun, beaming with approval. Dorian's expression flitted between relief and discomfort. But the King and Queen of Fereldan looked uncomfortable, for they like Cassandra, had just witnessed the waking of a sleeping giant. The Inquisition was now a new power in the realm of Southern Thedas, and the Herald of Andraste was at its center, whether he realized it or not.

* * *

 _ **Three Weeks Later**_

Relocating hundreds of people is no easy task, and the mages of Redcliffe had no time to dawdle. Bann Tegan had been restored to his position as Arl of Redcliffe and made it very clear that mages were no longer welcome in his domain. In a bid to get the mages out of his lands as quickly as possible, Tegan ordered his citizens not to offer any aid to the mages, a rule that many people followed. With the influx of so many people to Haven, the Inquisition was abuzz with activity, camps had to be set up, rules had to be placed, and messages had to be sent to all remaining Circles, that the mage rebellion was now over.

Marcus' decision to conscript the mages, depriving them of basic rights divided the Council. Leliana was strongly against the measure, but Cullen supported it wholeheartedly, and Josephine gave her tacit approval. Leliana could not overturn the rule without the support of her fellow Council members. Instead, she refocused her efforts to close the Breach, while Cullen focused on logistics, while Josephine dealt with diplomacy.

Amidst all this activity, Marcus was withdrawn and reclusive, the Herald was seen around Haven staring far off into the distance, thinking deeply but not saying a word to anyone. Cassandra found this attitude unacceptable, as the Herald he was supposed to be overseeing these changes, and making sure everything went smoothly. His taciturn attitude did little to allay the rumors that plagued Haven, whispers simmered beneath the flurry of activity. Whenever the agents had time to breathe, they would talk about Marcus' brutal manhandling of the imprisoned Magister. Everyone knew Magister Alexius was a threat to Fereldan, but they had not expected the Herald of Andraste, a man chosen by the Maker to behave in such a fashion.

If Cassandra was concerned about the gossip, then Josephine was beside herself. Marcus did not realize how much effort she and Leliana had put into portraying him as a divine agent handpicked by Andraste to restore order to a world gone mad. His butchering of the magister, went a long way in tarnishing that image. The head diplomat of the Inquisition was working day and night to repair the reputation lost. But Cassandra knew better, only the Herald could fix his own mess and he was not going to be doing it by brooding in a corner, while everyone worked hard to accommodate the mages.

"Have you seen the Herald?" she demanded, "I need to speak with him," the soldier nodded, "He is over there, Lady Cassandra,"

Before quickly running off, a cold gust of wind ruffled Cassandra's hair and sent shivers down her spine as she walked in the direction the soldier pointed, her boots leaving deep imprints in the snow. She found Marcus leaning against a hut, staring off into the distance. Cassandra took a deep breath, this was not her strength, but she would try her best. Feeling more nervous than she let on, the Seeker made her way to the Herald. Without announcing herself, she went and stood next to him. Marcus didn't acknowledge her at first, he simply stared off into distance. Cassandra followed his gaze, into the white, sloping curves of the Frostbacks.

"It is a rather plain view," she remarked, "Not one I would have associated with you,"

"What do you want, Seeker?" asked Marcus, he did not sound amused.

Cassandra quickly realized that the roundabout method of talking to him was not going to work, she only came her at Josephine's behest.

"I came to talk you out of your indifferent attitude,"

Marcus snorted at that, but he did not budge from his indolent pose. "Is that so? I thought you came to punch me in the face,"

"That would be my preferred method of talking," she said, "So do not tempt me,"

Marcus shook his head, "Just say what's on your mind and go," he said. "I have no interest in arguing with you,"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow, she assumed that was all he was interested in doing.

"I read the reports on what you saw in the future," she said, "It sounds disturbing,"

Marcus sighed, "Well, that is something you and I can agree on,"

"But it does not explain your actions now," she said, "Your reclusive behavior does you no credit,"

Marcus shook his head, "You won't understand,"

Something inside Cassandra flared up inside her. Without thinking, she grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"You are right I don't understand!" she snapped, "And I don't care to!"

"Then why are you here?" Marcus demanded, shoving Cassandra's hand off his shoulder.

"Because there are too many lives at stake!" Cassandra yelled, "Do you understand what we are dealing with? _There is a hole in the sky!_ Every moment we do not act, someone is falling victim to a demon. _People are dying or worse!_ And if we don't act this entire land will be laid to waste!"

"I get that!" Marcus snapped, "I know people are suffering,"

"Then do something about it!" Cassandra snapped, "The mages are coming to Haven, you should be working with the Council to prepare for their arrival,"

"Yes, the mages are coming," said Marcus, "And they are coming in chains because of me!"

Stunned silence followed this stunning revelation, Cassandra stared blankly not sure of what else to say. Marcus turned away from Cassandra, and continued speaking.

"I was angry about what I saw in the future," he explained, "Seeing all that destruction, seeing people I knew _die_ the way they did it. It got me so angry. I needed to take out my anger out on someone,"

"Is that why you went after Alexius?" Cassandra asked.

Marcus sighed, "Yes," he said, in a tone of clear embarrassment, "I am not proud of what I did, but I I thought the man who started it all deserved it,"

"And what about the mages?" Cassandra asked,"Did they deserve it?"

Marcus turned around to face her, and the look on his face showed that he was quiet ashamed, though for what Cassandra was not sure. Marcus shook his head.

"I don't know," he said.

"Don't know what?"

Marcus did not reply, prompting Cassandra to press on.

"Silence is not the answer," she snapped. "The world needs you to act!"

"I know that!" snapped Marcus, "Every time I act something bad always happens!"

Cassandra did not know what else to say, but fortunately Marcus was speaking again.

"For weeks I was just lounging around, never really helping, never doing anything unless forced," he said. "I never took this seriously, you, being the Herald, none of it. Then at Redcliffe, I saw what happened if we didn't succeed, if _I_ didn't succeed,"

Marcus hung his head in shame, and Cassandra understood. Seeing the future had a huge effect on Marcus, not only did he see comrades die. It was a stark reminder of what was happening in the present, and what little _he_ had done to resolve the situation. In his anger and guilt, he had lashed out impulsively, demanding the mages to come to Haven in chains. Cassandra took a deep breath, her temper faded away with understanding.

"It is still not too late," she said.

"For what?" snapped Marcus.

"For you to help," said Cassandra. "You may not see it now but bringing the mages to Haven is a huge step forward in closing the Breach. And for what it is worth, I believe you did the right thing at Redcliffe,"

Marcus turned to her, his green eyes expressed confusion and doubt.

"What do you mean?" he asked,

"The mages squandered the freedom King Alistair and Queen Anora gave them," Cassandra explained. "Perhaps losing some of their liberties will help them remember the value of it,"

Marcus nodded. "Thanks," he said, "It means a lot to me, knowing that _someone_ thinks I didn't fail completely," Cassandra raised an eyebrow, surprised that he said thanks. But she was not going to let him off the hook.

"People are talking about what you have done to Alexius," she said. "Being recalcitrant is hurting you, not to mention it has put a lot of stress on Josephine,"

"Any advice on what I should do?"

Cassandra nearly sighed in relief, "Start by helping the agents," she said. "Work with them, make them see you are anything but a brutal butcher,"

Marcus nodded. "All right, I will start at once,"

Cassandra raised her eyebrows in surprise, "Really?" she asked. "You are going to take my advice?"

"Well," Marcus said, with a small smile. "You _do_ have more experience when it comes to these things,"

Cassandra stared caught slightly off guard by Marcus' smile, it seemed to light up his face and portray him in a completely different light.

"And what sort of experience are you referring to exactly?"

"The bat shit crazy stuff," he said.

Cassandra rolled her eyes,

"I am glad it did you _some_ good," she said,

Marcus sighed, and turned towards Cassandra. "I guess I better get started,"

"Please do,"

The Herald took a few steps, before turning around to look at her.

"Thanks for the talk," he said, "I needed that."

* * *

" _Are you sure about this Herald? Those warriors are very strong,"_

 _"It is me the Avvar Lord wants, I don't want anyone suffering on my behalf,"_

 _"Very well, when do you plan to leave?"_

 _"At dawn,"_

The Fallow Mire was one of the most wet, drab, depressing places Marcus had ever encountered. Rain clouds darkened the sky blotting out the sun and cloaking everyone in a wet blanket. Everything Marcus laid eyes on was wet from fresh green grass to the wooden sheds, to the shining stone . The air was cold and a peculiar smell of wetness lingered in the air. The Herald himself was dredged in rain water, and seeped into his leather armor. He shivered in the dark, wet atmosphere and turned towards a scout.

"Why on earth would Cullen send his troops here?" he snapped, "There's nothing but wet stuff,"

"We got word that residents of a fishing village were suffering from a plague," explained the scout, feeling a little uneasy. "We came here to treat those we could. By the time they got here, there was no one but the Avvar warriors,"

"And now there are fade rifts in the area," commented Blackwall, water trickled down from his beard and mustache splattering his own armor.

Marcus had spoken to the warrior in the Hinterlands, but the Grey Warden had come to Haven of his own volition. The Herald wasn't sure what the Inquisition could gain from a Warden who claimed to be isolated from his peers for a long period of time, but Leliana had welcomed him. Marcus wanted to see what the man was capable of and brought him along with Sera and Dorian.

"You know," Dorian said, "This is the perfect place for a vacation, what better way to experience Southern culture than wet, dank and gloomy?"

"You are not serious, right?" demanded Sera, "This place is a right shit hole, even by our standards,"

"You obviously haven't grasped the meaning of the word ' _sarcasm',_ have you?"

"We should have expected the fade rifts," added Cassandra, glaring up at the sky in distaste. "Solas said that rifts occur in places where the veil was already thin. Spirits would have been drawn to the deaths here caused by the plague, pressing against the veil when the Breach was created,"

"You mean, I don't have to go scouring every inch of the Fereldan countryside, looking for these rifts?" Marcus asked,

"Probably not," came the curt reply.

"Well," Marcus said to himself. "I knew there had to be _some_ bright spot in all this gloom,"

Without saying a word, Marcus left the safety of the camp. The few scouts who were already here, had taken shelter in the tents, not eager to be out in the wet rain unless they had to be. The Herald had taken a few steps when Cassandra caught up to him. Marcus did not need to glance at her to know she was frowning.

"You could have told us you were going to venture out," she said, crossly.

"Who said I am going to venture out?" Marcus asked. "I may just be going to take a leak," he glanced at the Seeker to get her reaction.

Even in the dark Marcus could make out the Seeker's features, going from annoyance to surprise.

"I-I-I am sorry," she stuttered, feeling alarmed. "I did not know. I will leave you alone,"

Marcus paused for a moment, before he burst out laughing.

"The look on your face!" he exclaimed in sheer delight.

Cassandra scowled at Marcus in clear annoyance.

"You are being childish," she chided. "These pranks will do us no good in the bog,"

"Does me plenty of good," Marcus chortled. "But you are right, we are heading out now. We will rescue those soldiers and close those rifts!"

"I am afraid we will have to deal with something else!" Dorian called out.

Both Marcus and Cassandra jumped, they had forgotten about their companions during their exchange. A strange noise reached their ears, Marcus turned around to see several strange human-like creatures rising from the water.

"What in Andraste's grace are those things?" Blackwall demanded pulling out his broadsword and running forward.

"They look like corpses," Cassandra called out, pulling out her weapons and moving close to the Herald."They must have been victims of the plague,"

Marcus felt a prickle of fear, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up on end. Nonetheless, he pulled out his daggers and readied himself for a fight. Sera pulled out an arrow, took aim with her longbow and released. Even in the dark, she managed to hit one corpse on the head, the creature staggered back from the impact before it regained its balance. Cassandra and Marcus did not hesitate,

"We need to incapacitate them," Marcus said to the rest of the group, "Go for the arms and legs, render them useless!"

"Dorian use fire," Cassandra called out, "Sera use the jars of Antivan fire you showed me earlier,"

The group fell back to allow the corpses more room to climb onto the surface. Marcus watched tensely as the corpses left the murky recesses of the lake and approached them. Cassandra stood beside him waiting for the corpses to come to them, her familiar presence was welcome against these disturbing foes. Some of the corpses held long swords in their gnarled fingers while others held longbows.

The corpses left land, the Herald counted at least ten bodies approaching them. Realizing they were outnumbered, the Herald decided to take the fight to his enemies. He moved across the field like lightening and closed the gap between him and one of the corpses. Marcus ducked beneath a clumsy swipe of the sword, and sliced the corpse's shins. The dead body fell to the ground and Marcus stabbed it in the throat. He heard something whistling through the air, and he ducked as an arrow landed with a loud thud in the wet ground. Two other corpses approached him, they moved at the same time lunging at him with their swords. Marcus tried to move back but the grass was wet and he slipped and fell. He landed painfully on his side as the corpses loomed over him. He was getting ready to fight them off when a figure stood in front of him, protecting from the corpses.

"You," said Cassandra, "Are an idiot,"

"Much obliged," Marcus said, getting to his feet.

The Seeker clashed with the possessed corpses, dispatching both of them with ease, while Marcus leapt back into the fray diving and weaving among his enemies. Within moments the fight was over, and the grounds were silent. The group of five stood still catching their breath. Blackwall was the first to break the silence.

"Okay," said the Warden. "Just what the hell were those things?"

"I believe those were corpses, my dear bearded hobo," said Dorian, "Spirits would have taken possession of the bodies, no doubt the rifts would have made it much easier to do than normal,"

"Those things came out of the lake!" exclaimed Sera, she raised a finger and pointed at the lake. "I swear, all I did was touch the water and those things just started coming out!"

"Well," Marcus said, "The obvious thing to do is _not_ touch the water,"

"I know that, smarty pants" snapped Sera, who had not yet recovered from the encounter. "To think those were once people…"

"What happened here is unfortunate," Cassandra said. "But our goals are clear, rescue our soldiers while closing as many fade rifts as possible,"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Right because that is such an easy thing to do,"

Cassandra sighed, "Easy or not, it has to be done," she replied. "Sooner rather than later,"

Without waiting for another retort, Cassandra trudged forward, her boots making thick squelching noises on the wet ground. With a sigh of resignation, Marcus turned to others and gestured to them to follow, before falling in line with the Seeker. For a moment, Marcus stared at the woman in front of him, if the Seeker was daunted by the task she did not show it. Cassandra walked straight ahead with a straight, rigid posture, determined to surge on ahead. Marcus would never admit it but he was glad Cassandra was here, he had been nervous about the soldiers and now the presence of fade rifts and corpses had matters even more complicated.

Looking to hide his nerves, he turned to Dorian who had just caught up with him.

"Still think this is a good vacation spot?" he asked.

"I may have to rescind that thought," Dorian replied. "Corpses tend to ruin the view,"

Marcus snorted. "You don't say,"

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading. FYI I have bumped up the rating to M because it occurred to me that Marcus does curse quiet a bit. Not sure if foul language alone warrants a mature rating, but why take chances? Also,_ _please leave a review telling me what you thought!_


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